


Pick Up Lines!

by aparticularbandit



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:41:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 27,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22064188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aparticularbandit/pseuds/aparticularbandit
Summary: A collection of pick up line prompts featuring Rose and Luisa and sometimes other characters.  ^^
Relationships: Luisa Alver/Rose Solano
Comments: 3
Kudos: 80





	1. Band Aids and Falling

“Mama, Mama!” Mia sprinted across the hardwood floors, leaving a huge muddy trail behind her. (This was, in fact, why they had hardwood floors instead of Luisa’s preferred comfy, warm, static-inducing carpet – after too many dirty trails and stains, she’d broken down and let Rose call in her favorite construction company to replace the floors while the three of them stayed at the Marbella for the holidays. She’d been richly rewarded for her sacrifice however; Rose had splurged and had heated floors installed throughout the entire house.)

It didn’t take long before Mia found her mama; Luisa only stood a little while further in the kitchen, up to her elbows in soapy water as she washed the dishes. She let out a sigh as she saw the bootprints across the floor; good thing she’d been waiting until later to mop!

“What’s wrong, Mia?” she asked, leaning forward over the sink to stare at her brown-eyed, freckle-covered daughter.

Mia knocked her boot heels together, hands tangling behind her back as she glanced downwards. “Mom says you gotta come quick. She hurt herself, and she needs a medical expert.” Then she looked up with a mischievous grin – one she’d inherited from none other than Rose herself. “She said kisses aren’t working.”

Luisa toweled off her arms, leaving the last few dishes in the sink, and hoisted her tiny daughter up into her arms. “Did you at least _try_ the kisses?” Her hazel eyes met her daughter’s darker ones.

Mia nodded rapidly, her curly red hair bouncing where it barely brushed against her shoulders. “I tried!” she exclaimed. “Bunches of times! But none of them worked!”

“Well,’ Luisa said, hoisting her daughter higher as she started to the door, careful to avoid Mia’s mud trail, “maybe it’ll work when _I_ try.” She set Mia down carefully outside on their wooden back porch and looked around for her redheaded wife, but Rose was nowhere to be seen.

“Rose?” Luisa couldn’t help herself; she was immediately afraid. The police may have dropped their charges when Rose agreed to testify against her stepmother, Elena, but Luisa was still afraid that someday she would come outside and find Rose being handcuffed and stuffed into the back seat of a vehicle with flashing red and blue lights again. But today, she was certain, would not be one of those days. She took a deep breath. Rose must be behind the wooden playset – the one Rose herself built as soon as Mia was old enough to ask for one.

Luisa drew closer to the playset, and as she did, Rose dragged herself out of the tunnel. Rose started down the wooden steps and _tripped_. Luisa ran to her – _Rose didn’t trip_ – and when she did, she helped Rose into a sitting position. Rose rubbed a hand across her eyes and began to brush grass away from her scratched up knee, where a bubble of blood was just beginning to show.

“Are you okay?” Luisa asked, brushing Rose’s frizzy red hair out of her face and searching her crystal blue eyes.

Rose nodded once, swallowing. “Do you have a Band-Aid?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Luisa said, searching her pockets for one, until she realized that Rose was continuing.

“Good, because I scraped my knee pretty bad when I fell for you.”

Luisa paused in her excited, scared ruffling. Then she turned to Rose, gave her a blank stare, and then stood, brushed her hands against her skirt, and walked back to the porch without another word.


	2. Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of epic superhero crossover Roisa for y'all! I don't know if I'll cover this sort of thing in one of the fics or not, and if I do, it might feel a little bit different than this--
> 
> EITHER WAY, here! Have a bit of epic superhero crossover Roisa!

“So you’re…you’re _Rose_.”

Rose’s head tilted to one side, smile painted on her face – genuine, but frozen, as she watched Luisa, trying to gauge her response. “I told you my name when I first met you.”

Luisa’s eyes narrowed and stepped back, but not yet out of the redhead’s arms. “Yeah, but I didn’t know you were you. Rose. _The_ Rose. _Rose’s Thorns Rose._ That _is_ who you are, isn’t it?” She searched Rose’s eyes. “You can prove it?”

“I hoped we were past that point, but….” Rose sighed, and as she broke eye contact with her girlfriend, she leaned her head to one side, brushing her fingers through her hair. Everywhere her fingers touched, her hair color changed from a bright red to a deep wooden brown. When her eyes met Luisa’s again, they’d changed from a soft blue to a green with flecks of gold underneath them. Her skin became a softer, sandy brown where the shadows touched it, a swirl pattern at the edge where it reached the light. “What do you think?”

“Wow.” Luisa’s mouth dropped open as the other woman shifted in front of her. “You’re like Mystique!”

Rose scowled. “Mystique isn’t real.”

“Well, she’s real to me.” Luisa crossed her arms. At first, she seemed to pout, but her expression quickly shifted into a smug smile. Her eyes met Rose’s. “So you’re a _thief_ , right?”

Rose took a breath and glanced upward. “ _Technically_ , yes,” and she looked back down, facing the wall behind Luisa instead of her girlfriend directly, “but you and I both know that’s not how the rest of the world refers to me.” She brushed her curls out of her face, and as she did, her hair returned to the bright red she knew Luisa preferred, her skin returned to the shade she normally wore, and her eyes returned to the bright blue she couldn’t remember not having and had never wanted to permanently change.

“But I _can_ call you a thief, right?” Luisa’s brows rose.

“It’s not the _proper_ term, but yes.” Rose met Luisa’s eyes again, brows furrowing. Something was up. “Why?”

Luisa grinned. “Well, you must be one hell of a thief, because you stole my heart without any problem.”

Rose stared at her for a couple of minutes. She blinked twice. Then, just as Luisa’s grin began to falter, she smiled and leaned forward, brushing her lips gentle against her girlfriend’s. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“We can’t all be pun masters.” Luisa relaxed at Rose’s touch. “Besides, it got you to kiss me again, didn’t it?”

Rose ran her fingers through Luisa’s curls. “Is that all you wanted? You could have just _asked_ for that.”

“Mmmmmm, I know.” Luisa ran her fingers up Rose’s bare arm. “But this seemed like a lot more fun.” Then her eyes lit up. “Wait, does this mean you can play around with that sort of stuff during sex?”

“You find out I’m a criminal mastermind shapeshifter, and the first thing you want to do is play around with it during sex?”

Luisa shrugged. “No, I wanted to use a cheesy pick up line first. Sex shenanigans was _second_.” She pouted. “Does that mean no?”

Rose laughed and kissed Luisa again. “Let’s go somewhere a little more secluded before we play around with that.”

And she was warmed by just how excited her girlfriend’s response was, grabbing her hand and giving it a strong squeeze before pulling her out of the alley. _More secluded_ likely wouldn’t be a problem at all.


	3. Fits and Starts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic takes place after the end of the "it's love's illusions i recall; i really don't know love at all" and so Rose goes by Vera.
> 
> No one really asked for more in that verse. It just kind of happened.

it’s been one of those days.

luisa’s curled up in their bedroom in the back of the house nursing the tail end of a migraine. she _says_ it’s the end and that it’s going away, but she’d said that early that morning, too, and even with the blackout curtains (which luisa hates _except when she has a migraine_ and then they get pulled out of their closet and thrown over the otherwise quite cheery windows), even with the lights out (other than the one children’s nightlight with light blue wave edges and soft colored tropical fish who swim across the wall which she loves more than anything that wasn’t her favorite people), and even with the absolute silence (in the bedroom, to help luisa rest, which didn’t really work with the birds chirping cheerily at the birdhouse and birdbath situated right outside their window so it could be the first thing – other than vera herself – that luisa could see when she woke), luisa doesn’t seem to be getting any better.

Normally, vera would be a good little wife – _good_ notwithstanding – and attend to luisa’s every need, but for the first time perhaps _ever_ , the solano-villanueva conglomerate had decided that luisa and her new girlfriend ( _not_ eileen, because that had ended disastrously, but vera – who once had been rose but was no longer – no mask or anything…other than a change of her name and a discovering of a personality she’d never believed herself able to have) were worthy of their time and attention. they still call her a _girlfriend_ ; they hadn’t gone to their wedding.

—notably, _petra and jr_ had been at the wedding. they’d been their witnesses. jr had even been luisa’s maid of honor (vera hadn’t wanted an entourage, and if petra hadn’t demanded an equal spot to jr (since she had, after all, known both of them for far longer and she hadn’t _ever_ particularly _hated_ rose when she’d been rose), vera would likely have chosen one of her coworkers at random from her auto-mechanic job, which…luisa hadn’t wanted). they heard later that their actions had caused quite a fight between petra and jane, and _that fight_ had ended with the conglomerate inviting themselves over for the dinner they were _supposed_ to be having soon.

luisa’s migraine has been going for three days by now. vera is certain it’s the stress of having family over and introducing vera who was once rose to them and explaining herself, but no matter what she does or says, luisa refuses to call the whole thing off. and so vera’s spent the whole day cooking and cleaning _and cooking_ instead of tending to her wife hand and foot like she wants to be doing.

vera wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, trying to mop the sweat not caught by the bandana holding back her wild, unkempt dark red curls (there are strands of white through them now, mostly hidden, and luisa consistently refuses to let her dye them the same color as the rest of her hair). their air conditioner isn’t quite good enough to keep the kitchen cool with all of the baking she’s been doing, and the fan batting the air overhead isn’t nearly as helpful as she wants it to be. at least it doesn’t creak.

suddenly, there are hands wrapping around her thin waist. vera turns to see luisa, and she presses a kiss to her forehead as her wife looks up at her. “feeling better?”

“ _mmmmm_ , yes, thank you.” luisa nods against her white tank top. “you stink.”

“i’ve been cooking all day.”

“it all smells good.” luisa’s hazel eyes brighten, and she grins like she’s in on some sort of joke. “was your daddy a baker?”

vera sighs and looks over to the huge loaves of bread cooling on their racks. “no. my daddy was an alcoholic. my mom was a baker, though.” she twists in luisa’s arms so that luisa is at her side, and she wraps one arm around her shoulders. “my mom was a good baker. taught me everything i know. i’d forgotten, until i had time to play around with it again.” she glances down, sees luisa’s grin fading, and winces. “what? what did i say?”

“nothing. i just—” luisa grins again. “ _because you’ve got some nice buns_.” her grin is so big it could split her face, but it doesn’t. “i didn’t think you’d take the question so seriously.” she leans up on her tiptoes and gives vera a kiss. “go take a shower. i can take care of things from here.”

vera smiles into the kiss and kisses her again. “i’m rubbing off on you. puns and bad pick up lines. _really_ bad pick up lines.” she tugs gently on her wife’s wrist. “give me five minutes, and then you can shower with me. you don’t smell so great yourself.”

“i had a migraine. what’s your excuse?” then luisa’s eyes light up again. “oh, no excuse, no excuse, i _like_ this decision. five minutes?”

vera nods. “just until i can get this lasagna out of the oven.”

“ _lasagna?_ ” luisa laughs. “you’re really out-doing yourself.” she tightens her hold on vera’s waist. “i’ll give you a back massage, too. sound good?”

“sounds _wonderful_.”


	4. more automechanic vera because why not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> probably should have posted this one before the last one BUT oh well. still have auto-mechanic vera on the brain. so set in the same universe as the last one but quite a bit earlier. i just. really like that au apparently. and i didn't realize it.

they’d been together for a few months.

well.

not _together_ together.

luisa had been very firm about that – to herself, anyway, because rose – _vera_ – had never asked. it seemed the other woman had been content to just take the small moments she was given. luisa would visit vera’s auto-mechanic job when she needed something fixed in her car (and this was new, seeing rose in _jeans_ – but then, she wasn’t really _rose_ anymore, was she? – or a blue overall jumpsuit, her frizzy red hair pulled back under a blue bandanna, covered in spots of grease), and once she’d given vera the address to her little flower shop (she’d stayed closer to the solano-villanueva conglomerate than she’d originally planned; longbourne was too far away – all those hours – but she hadn’t wanted to be so close that it hurt they still ignored her – and they had _a family_ to look after, they were _busy_ , it wasn’t _personal_ the way it was before), vera poked in every now and again, met her eyes, and blushed the lightest pink or relaxed or—

it was cute in a way that rose had never really been cute before. vulnerable. like the life rose might have truly had if she’d ever been able to be….

well.

rose was dead now, wasn’t she? wasn’t that the point? rose was dead and gone and there was just….

sometimes luisa would make sure to be there when vera was closing. sometimes she came by just to watch. _vera had muscles now._ obviously rose had them, too, because everyone _had_ muscles, it was impossible to _do_ much without muscles, she _had_ been a doctor, so she _did_ know how muscles worked – but _vera was strong_. she was whipsmart and quiet and focused and refused to let herself be promoted (her coworkers had noticed luisa coming in to watch, and they talked to her because luisa seemed to know more about her than she would say – _which, notably, was true_ , because if vera didn’t say much, it wasn’t luisa’s place to out her – mostly the higher ups wanted to know _whys_ , and sometimes they wanted to say _thank you_ – but it was a quiet sort of thing). rose had been fierce in her silences, and vera was never fierce.

rose may have loved her, but vera cherished her.

maybe death had taken something from her. or maybe it had given her something.

luisa would walk with her, too, after work. they learned the sidewalks and stores surrounding the store, and luisa would ask questions. often – too often – vera said she was tired. there were bags under her eyes when she washed the grease off. she wasn’t sleeping well. she had nightmares. but she wouldn’t say much. she liked hearing what luisa said more. and she liked going with luisa to the shops and trying out new things.

it took months. luisa _waited_. she was certain that, eventually, vera would ask her out. but there was nothing. nothing at all. as though—

“hey.”

vera looked up as luisa nudged her, and she met luisa’s eyes, and there must be something in her that was worried or wary or _wounded_ because her jaw worked the slightest met – not the angry clenching rose used to have, but that steeling that must have come from the clara she never got to meet.

“i need you to ask me something. word for word.”

one of vera’s brows arced, and a corner of her lips twitched ever so slightly upward, and her jaw jutted outwards as she nodded, her eyes twinkling.

“if i asked you out on a date,” luisa said, making sure to go very slowly so that vera can hear every word, “would your answer to that question be the same as your answer to this one?”

she watched as vera’s face froze, as her mind worked it out, and that _grin_ that was all rose, that was something carried over. then she said, careful, making sure that her words were just as exact as luisa’s had been, “if i asked you out on a date, would your answer to that question be the same as your answer to this one?”

luisa shrugged. “maybe.” she watched as vera’s face fell, then she smiled. “why don’t you try it and see?”

but vera still hadn’t. not then, anyway. it had been another month before, finally, vera had said, at the end of one of their walks, while luisa was trying to get into her car and wasn’t even facing her, “can i follow you home? my parents always told me to follow my dreams.”

luisa had frozen. she’d looked at vera’s reflection in her car window before slowly turning to face her. vera stood with her hands shoved into her back jeans pockets, leaning back ever so slightly, that bandana keeping her hair out of her face, but there was this one, curly lock that refused to be held back, and luisa had reached across ever so gently to brush it away. “i thought you’d never ask.”

followed, of course, by a fist to vera’s shoulder and, “i told you to ask me out on a date, _not to ask to go back to my place_ , i thought we were trying to take things _slow_ here,” and that slowly spreading grin across vera’s face as she looked down, struggling not to laugh and, like always, failing.


	5. Thirsty

There was a point at which they couldn’t tell which bad idea belonged to who anymore.

_This is not exactly true. There are certain ideas so bad and disastrous that they always remember whose they were. Rose, certain of her baking skills, was the one who tried to make the pizza pastry. Luisa, impulsive and bored with their apartment, painted the walls and windows a dark blue, thinking it would make the living room look like an underwater cavern. They’d both agreed on the barbecue cupcake experiment._

But today – this time – it could easily have been said to be either of them. Luisa was tired of being cooped up and hiding in their apartment all the time. Rose thought she knew the trails like the back of her hand from her time spent here exploring when she was small – however many years ago that was. And so, they’d left their little apartment, all dressed in clothes they thought would be suitable for a good hike through woods and up a mountain with what they thought _might_ be good supplies.

Then they made it halfway up the mountain, found that there was a hole in one of their water bottles, and realized they now had _significantly_ less water than they’d prepared – which, they’d noticed on the way up, was really less than they wanted because it was so much _hotter_ than they thought it would be. Rose’s hair was so sweaty and damp that it was frizzing up again on the edges the same way it did in the even more humid air of the Caymans, and Luisa’d torn off her shirt and shoved it into her bag before complaining about how her backpack straps dug into her skin.

It was on the return trip that they’d wandered from the well-beaten path to another one that Luisa was certain was a shortcut – _it wasn’t_ – and after another thirty minutes walking down that path with no indication that it was getting any closer to the bottom, with a frazzled Rose who _needed water, Luisa, shouldn’t a former medical doctor know that?_ they found themselves **not** any closer to the base of the mountain but instead within sight of a hugely formidable mountain lake. Luisa’d forgotten that it was there at all. Before Rose could place a hand on her shoulder and demand they turn back _now_ , she’d run the rest of the way along the path. Rose wasn’t nearly as quick as her girlfriend was, but she was close enough that she was given a nice view of Luisa stripping down to nothing before sprinting into the water.

Rose stopped at the edge of the lake and was greeted by Luisa’s face half out of the water, her brown hair half floating along the top like a weed, and her hazel eyes staring at her. “Luisa, we don’t have time for this.”

“We have plenty of time!” Luisa said, splashing at her but from far enough away that none of it got to her at all. “Come join me! The water’s _great_.”

But Rose just stared at the mountain lake, then down to Luisa’s bag, and then back again. “I’m _thirsty_. Playing around in a lake isn’t going to help.”

“Your body is 65% water,” Luisa started, then grinned, “and _I’m_ thirsty for _you_.”

Rose couldn’t help but smile. She’d be smiling a little more if she wasn’t _actually_ thirsty for _water_ , but she knew well enough that she wanted to reward Luisa for attempting the joke. She sighed. “If I get sick from this, I’m blaming you,” she said, slowly beginning to strip.

“You won’t get sick! You used to play around a riverbank when you were a kid! You’ll be _fine_!”

* * *

She was not fine.

She got very sick.

So did Luisa.

It was _not_ their best idea.


	6. vera and jane being petty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no one really asked for more in this verse, but they keep coming anyway. sorry not sorry. >.>

the solano-villanueva conglomerate was precipitated by the arrival of their unspoken matriarch – jane villanueva, who had refused to offer up her last name to take rafael’s adopted one, who had wanted the branding of her own name continued – neither of which bothered vera, who saw no issue with seeing the solano name beginning to disappear, but which only partially bothered luisa, who understood wanting to keep a last name that was personal to herself but who couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of sadness at the slow loss of her father’s last name. vera wasn’t surprised to find that jane came to see them first, but she _was_ surprised by the addition of jane’s oldest child, mateo, who seemed to have picked up on the star wars obsession that vera herself had when she was younger, since he was wearing one of those children’s darth vader hoodies with the hood pulled all the way up so that he could look like vader himself. in her opinion, he looked more like the lego variant, but she knew better than to tell _him_ that. or jane. no critiquing of jane. no playing with jane. luisa had been very strict about that. or as strict as she could be, anyway.

actually, if luisa had her way, vera and jane would be in entirely separate rooms all of the time. not because she didn’t love vera, but because there was a certain oil to fire aspect of her being around jane.

but luisa was still finishing up her preparations from her shower with vera earlier, spending some soaking in the super large tub to soothe away what still lingered from her slowly fading migraine. vera’d returned to the kitchen to finish up the cooking – her hair was still wet and frizzy and dripping dry as she cooked – they should have longer before anyone else arrived, thirty minutes at the least, an hour or more if people were running late – but they hadn’t figured on _jane_.

vera poked her head into the bathroom, saw luisa lying in the tub with her hair hanging over one edge and her eyes closed, covered with bubbles that were slowly popping away into nothing, and made what she knew lu would think was the _wrong_ decision, but which she was sure was the right one—

she made it to the front door and opened it to jane and the offspring rose had stolen, her wet hair pushed back with a rumpled red and white paisley bandana, and offered them a soft smile – one that she hoped was welcoming – as she gestured them inside.

jane froze as she saw her, dark eyes flicking up and down her, and although vera had only encountered jane a handful of times as rose (once when she was still married to emilio and once when she’d…no, that didn’t matter), she could feel the weight of her judgment square on her shoulders. it didn’t cripple her.

“look what the cat dragged in.”

vera grinned and reminded herself that rose was dead. “how _is_ faith m. whiskers?” she asked as jane walked past her into their little house. “did he ever recover from his run in with that _dangerous_ sin rostro character?”

“you know sin rostro?” mateo looked up at vera with big, round brown eyes as she shut the door behind them. “mom said she kidnapped me when i was a baby. like how obi-wan kidnapped luke and leia only vader thought they were dead.”

“obi-wan did a good thing, mr. sweet face.” jane ruffled the top of mateo’s vader hood, ignoring his mumblings of displeasure. “sin rostro did not.”

 _rose_ , vera wanted to correct her. _she had a name. she was a real person. with hopes and love and dreams every bit as valid as yours were._ but instead, she just led them into the kitchen, brushing her hands on her jeans briefly. “we didn’t expect you to be here so early. luisa’s in the bath, and i was just finishing up cooking. there’s no poison in anything, don’t worry.”

jane’s head snapped up from her examination of the bread still cooling on their rack. she glared at vera. “why would you say that? haven’t you tormented us—”

“ _rose_ tormented you—”

“ _you are rose._ ”

vera steeled her face, plastering the smile on maybe a little too thick. “rose died,” she corrected. “i’m vera. i know you might be a little confused, since we look the same, but i’m a different person.”

jane opened her mouth to say something, but it snapped shut as mateo ran into the living room with a loud, “ _wooooooaaaaaahhhhh_.” her jaw clenched together as her expression fell – that visible whining of a whipped dog – no, that would be how rose would describe it; she didn’t want to carry that over – and she whirled away from vera, her skirts twisting, so that she could see what her son was doing.

mateo, on the other hand, was completely engrossed with the structure he’d found – a large lego death star that vera had been meticulously building in her spare time. it wasn’t quite finished; there were a bunch of spare legos collected in a bin under one of the side tables, along with the instructions on how to build it properly, as if she needed them (sometimes luisa would read them aloud as she was building, and vera would _sometimes_ internalize it and _sometimes_ ignore it, instead looking at the general design plans and building the way she wanted). but the little boy in the vader hoodie didn’t seem to care about any of that.

“it’s _awesome_!” mateo exclaimed, his eyes wide like his aunt’s could often be. “did you make this?” he turned to vera. “can i play with it?”

“of course you can.” vera didn’t even look at jane, just patted her shoulder (felt her tense and flinch immediately), and said, “ _watch the oven_ and pull the rest out when the timer goes off. you can do that, right?” before kneeling in front of mateo. “do you like legos?”

at vera’s permission, mateo took the death star ever so carefully from its place and cradled it huge against his chest – it was almost as big as his head was, if he would lower the hood – and stared inside at each of the little lego figurines. his head popped up at her question. “i _love_ them!” then he went back to looking in the death star. “do you have—”

“darth vader?” vera pulled out the bin of legos and instructions, dug through it, and then pulled out a little character in the same black and robotic design as what was on mateo’s hoodie. “he’s right here. i wanted to wait before adding him and palpatine in.” she almost sat down on the floor beside mateo before thinking better of it. “do you want to build more? i have other ones.”

mateo’s eyes widened even greater. “would i ever!”

vera held out her fist – and mateo bumped his against it – before she stood up. the oven timer went off as she passed the kitchen again. “can you get that?” she asked jane. “since you’re here early, it’d only be nice to make yourself useful.”

“of course.” jane’s teeth were clenched together, but she at least tore them apart to speak. it meant she wasn’t mumbling. that was good. didn’t mean that vera couldn’t still feel the daggers glaring into her back as she headed towards one of the back rooms.

luisa was out of the bathtub by the time vera reached their guest room, and she was dressed in only a towel, wringing the last drops out of her hair, when she came up behind her. “i heard voices,” she said, her head already tilted to one side. “who’s here?”

“jane and mateo decided to drop in early.” vera gave luisa long look and sighed. she didn’t say it – she didn’t _have_ to say it – her eyes lingering on luisa said everything for her. “i’m finding one of the old lego sets for him.”

“ _you’re not supposed to be bothering jane._ ”

“i’m not bothering her. she’s working in the kitchen while i entertain your brother’s spawn.” vera turned away just long enough to find the set she was looking for and then stood, giving luisa a gentle kiss before her wife could say anything. “i know. he’s cute. the cutest of their family. and you’ll come get jane as soon as you’re ready.” she brushed a hand through luisa’s wet hair and let it rest on her cheek. “so go. i’ll hold down the fort.”

luisa kissed her again. “thank you.”

“always.” vera smiled and then left her wife (because if she stayed any longer, they would get distracted, and as much fun as it would be to make jane listen to that – _her own fault for getting there so early_ – she didn’t think there would be much recovering from it). she carried the box into the living room, where mateo was waiting, and then, bright grin on her face, handed the box over to him.

mateo’s eyes grew wide again. “i didn’t know they even sold these!”

“ _they don’t._ ”

but mateo wasn’t listening to her, just opening the box and pulling out the legos and beginning to put them together the same way that vera did – without looking at the instructions. vera sat on the floor cross-legged across from him, putting together some of her own, and after a few minutes of silence (where she could still feel the weight of jane’s glare on her but felt it was best to let jane be jane where she would be jane), she said, “hey, kid. want to hear a joke?”

“sure!”

vera grinned to herself. “you like legos. _i_ like legos. so why don’t we build a relationship?”

mateo blinked a couple of times. “a relation ship?” he frowned and glanced up from his creation. “what kind of ship is that?”

all of a sudden, vera felt a hand clenched on her shoulder and heard her wife say, her voice very soft, “that’s not a joke your aunt vera is supposed to be sharing with anyone but me.”

vera looked up into her wife’s big brown eyes and grinned. “it’s a joke for him to share with his friends later. i’m sure jane would love that.” she turned to mateo. “just make sure to ask one of your best friends. one of the guys. not a girl. got it?”

mateo nodded once, firm. “got it.”


	7. proposal

she’s been carrying the ring around in her pocket for three days.

truth be told, she expected luisa to find it on the first day just because it was winter and cold and luisa had the habit of sticking her hands into vera’s front pockets as she leaned against her or kissed her but her hands were too small, her arms too short, to reach the very bottom where the ring lay. once, she was certain that her fingers just brushed it, but there was no way that could be the case. if luisa had felt the ring at all, she would have asked, that smug sort of smile on her face as she played with, _what’s this?_ and then the smile would freeze as she would feel the diamond on one end and she would look at vera so close, her eyes widening, and—

 _not_ that this was how vera planned to propose. just that it so easily could go that way and she knew how she would play it if she did. there was a lot of kissing involved. there was _always_ a lot of kissing involved. and she was certain, absolutely certain, that this time luisa wouldn’t say no the way she had to rose. who had _not_ planned and who had only wanted to make luisa happy when she realized that was something her partner had wanted.

vera wasn’t planning to ask just because she knew luisa wanted to be married. she didn’t even know if luisa still did. but, for the first time in…maybe ever, _she_ wanted to be married. she wanted to be married to luisa. not anyone else. it sat in the center of her chest – this ache for it – and maybe it was a purely vera sensation, because rose certainly had never wanted to be married (again, although she hadn’t really wanted to be married the first time) and clara had never truly reached the age where she might have considered it. the other persons she was – or might have been – hadn’t had any real reason to consider it. they hadn’t lived long enough for it.

but vera – domestic, auto-mechanic, hard-working vera – wanted it more than almost anything.

and this is how it happened.

that evening, vera brought luisa to a fancy restaurant – fancy being a subjective thing; it was fancy for the vera and luisa of today but nowhere near comparing with the rose and luisa of yesteryear – where they could watch people down below, slowly dancing together, all coupley and jazz and rose had always refused to dance because she didn’t know how, but luisa loved to dance, loved to watch, and vera hadn’t ever been asked, but she could see luisa’s _wanting_.

she might have called in a favor or two.

“hey,” she said, and luisa turned from where she’d propped her head on her hand to watch the people below. “your hand looks heavy. can i hold it?”

luisa laughed and her eyes twinkled. “sure.” she reached her hand over.

but vera stood, took her hand, and began to lead her away from their table. “i’d hoped you’d say yes.”

luisa followed her away from the table down to the dance floor, and her eyes widened. “you want to dance? i thought you didn’t know _how_.”

“rose didn’t. i do.” she pulled luisa towards her, and they began to dance.

it was hard to keep up with luisa’s enthusiasm – harder still to do what she needed, to focus long enough on her plan instead of on how _happy_ luisa looked – but then she was done, and it was done, and she didn’t have to think about anything other than the dancing. it was so much more fun than she’d thought.

luisa didn’t notice until they were done, pulling vera from the dance floor, forehead glistening with sweat. “i need a drink.” then, at vera’s startled look, that little correction – “ _water_ , i need _water_.” – and as they walked up the stairwell, vera could see luisa playing with the ring now adorning her left ring finger almost without thinking about it, spinning it around her finger.

it wasn’t until they were back at their table and luisa heard the clink of it against her glass that she froze, her eyes widening, and looked down to the ring on her finger. “when did you get there?” and then froze again, head jumping sharply up, eyes searching vera’s. “are you—” she swallowed once. “is this—”

vera reached over and took luisa’s hand. she’d thought this through. there were a lot of things she wanted to say, a lot of things she _could_ say, a lot of things she’d _planned_ on saying, but the only thing that came out around the lump building in her throat was, “yes.” very small, very soft. “ _yes._ ”

luisa leaned over the little table and kissed her. she was hungry, desperate, _needing_ – but so was she – and the kiss was only broken for a short period, luisa’s fingers just on vera’s chin as her eyes met hers, when luisa said, her voice just as hushed, “if you didn’t guess, _my answer is yes_.”


	8. bar sitting

Rose sits at the bar in her soon-to-be husband’s hotel. He isn’t there, of course – the first in what would eventually be a long string of days, weeks, _months_ when he would leave her to her own devices while he dealt with other things abroad (he would say it was one or another of his hotel conglomerate, but she knew that truthfully he was with his art thieves and various dealers or those who would like to buy them – as much as Emilio might trust her with his hotel business, he did not trust her with this) – but he _has_ left a tab open for her in his name, should she want a drink – _or anything else_ – while he is gone. A good father would have one open for each of his children as well and not just the girl he’s pursuing, but his son was useless enough without an open tab, and Luisa—

“ _Heeeeeeeyyyyyyy, cutie._ ”

—was **not** supposed to be here.

_Or drinking. She wasn’t supposed to be drinking._

The redhead turned just enough to see Luisa curling up to one of the other women at the bar. Her brown hair was mussed, her eyes a little glazed, but her smile was still as beautiful as it ever was. In her drunken state, she appeared to not have even noticed Rose was there.

Luisa ran her fingers along the other, blonde woman’s wrist. “D’ya want anything? I can get you _annnnnyything_.” Her glazed eyes appeared to brighten. “I know the owner.”

Rose snorted just loud enough for both Luisa and the woman next to her to hear her, and she turned to the blonde. “Sounds like she’s trying a little hard to me.” She tilted her head over to the bartender. “If her dad _really_ owns the hotel, she’ll have an open tab. Don’t trust everyone who says that.”

The blonde raised her eyebrows and turned back to Luisa. “ _Do you?_ ” Her voice was quiet.

But Luisa wasn’t looking at her anymore, was only looking at Rose with the fiercest, most intense frustrated scowl of a glare that she could muster while drunk. At the blonde’s question, she shook herself and glanced back to her. “Huh?”

“ _Do you have an open tab?_ ”

Luisa blinked a couple of times then shook her head. “No. Don’t want one. Can pay for myself.” She tilted her head to the side and offered the woman a smile. “Bigger fish to fry, cute redhead down there, _we can talk later_.” And then she was gesturing to the bartender for another drink as she sauntered over to Rose.

Rose looked up at her, and while she knew that sometimes Luisa could drink so much that it was all she could smell on her, it didn’t seem to be the case now. Luisa still smelled like herself – all honey and cinnamon swirled together – and this close, maybe her eyes weren’t quite as glazed as she’d thought they were.

“Hey.” Luisa sat down smoothly on the stool next to her and gave her that singular once over – the long drawn out look down her body and then back up, pausing on her lips and then returning to her eyes. “I just got dumped,” she said, voice smooth as could be, “and I think that _you_ could help me out.”

“Do you want me to make you feel better?” Rose asked, allowing herself the same once over that Luisa just gave her. She turned, exposing her long legs, and reached over to place her hand on Luisa’s thigh. “Why don’t we get out of here?”

While Luisa’s focus moved to the hand on her thigh, Rose glanced to the bartender. He’d been watching her, and she knew it was simple curiosity from how many times he’d seen her at the hotel owner’s side and now seeing her like this. She met his eyes, her head tilting ever so slightly to one side, and when she nodded towards Luisa again, he realized his mistake – he might have recognized Rose right off the bat, but he should have known to recognize _the hotel owner’s daughter who he was not supposed to be providing drinks to ever at all at the cost of his job_ – Rose saw that flicker of acknowledgement in his eyes and that same understanding of what she was trying to do.

Ish. He probably thought she was trying to look after her boyfriend’s daughter. Well, she was. Just not in the way he imagined.

“You going to show me a good time?” Luisa asked finally.

Rose turned back to her, meeting her eyes with that slow, steady smile she had only for her. “ _Anything you want, baby._ ”


	9. bad puns bad puns

Halfway through their trip to Spain – Luisa’s choice, not Rose’s, but Rose could be talked into going anywhere with her – Luisa made an announcement: “I’m going to try going vegan.”

Rose stared at her, blue eyes that startling crystal clear, before saying, her voice thick, “I don’t know you.”

“Yes, you do!” Luisa wrapped her arms around Rose’s neck and hung there, pressing kisses along her skin until Rose turned and kissed her back. “See? You wouldn’t kiss a _stranger_ , now, would you?” She quickly thought better of that as she recounted their first meeting, but then, they hadn’t really been _strangers_ at that point. At least not by her definition. She continued to look up at Rose. “You don’t have to do it with me,” she said, kissing the tip of Rose’s nose and being given the familiar scowl in return. “And I’m just going to try it out for a week, and if I don’t like it, then I won’t keep doing it, but you know I’ve been vegetarian for months now—” –a snap decision she’d made shortly after joining Rose in the Caymans, although whether that was because they’d seen fishers in Greece beat an octopus to death in front of them or not was anyone’s guess— “—and that’s been _just fine_ , and I haven’t made _you_ go vegetarian at all—”

“I’ve never been too big on _meat_ ,” Rose said, her eyes twinkling, tongue poking out just at her canines.

Luisa batted her arm once. “ _Not that kind of meat, Rose, and_ ,” here her eyes narrowed, “I’d say you’ve been eating a lot more meat throughout your life than _I_ have, so you just—”

Rose’s face grew red, but not in a good way. “You know I didn’t enjoy that, you know I have a hard time with even _fake meat_ —”

“—tofu—”

“… _really?_ ” Rose’s eyes narrowed, and she took a deep breath and leaned forward until her forehead just touched Luisa’s. Then she grinned. “Hey, do you know what kind of vegetable you’d be?” Her eyes twinkled again.

Luisa blinked twice. “No. What kind?”

“ _A cute-cumber_.”

Luisa smiled and pressed a kiss to Rose’s cheek. “Do you know what _you_ would be?”

“No.”

“A tomato. Because no matter _where we go_ or _how much sunscreen you wear_ , you always turn a bright red.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed. “Why can’t I be a strawberry?”

“Berries aren’t vegetables. They’re berries.” Luisa’s head tilted to the other side. “You could be a red bell pepper. _Or any kind of pepper_ – all spicy and too hot to eat. You could be a cayenne pepper, because of the Caymans or a ghost pepper because—”

Rose kissed Luisa’s forehead. “Or I could be a fruit and you could be a vegetable and then between us we’re basically all you can eat.”

Luisa’s face scrunched up. “Ew, Rose, I don’t want to eat _me_.”

“I do.”

“ _Rose._ ”


	10. rose hates mcdonalds a lot

Rose groaned, placing her head in her hands. She pushed her hands through her curly red hair and then lay her forehead on the McDonald’s table in front of her before sitting back with a little shriek. It was _sticky_. Didn’t _anyone_ wash the tables in here?! _Ugh._

“Hey.” Luisa walked up behind her and slowly clenched both of her shoulders before leaning down and kissing her cheek. “Long day?”

“ _Why are we meeting at a McDonalds? You don’t even eat their food._ ” Rose had never been one for mincing words before, and she wasn’t now. It was only then that she saw Mia, their small, frizzy haired daughter, and the scowl she’d been wearing quickly disappeared into a forced smile. “Hey. _Mia._ Hungry?”

Mia pouted. “Don’t like McDonalds. Want mac and cheese.” She frowned and looked up at Luisa. “Want to go _home_.”

Luisa sighed and sat down at the table across from Rose, propping her elbows on the table. “Play date with one of Mia’s friends from school—”

“ _She’s not my friend. Don’t like her. Want to go home._ ”

“—they’ll probably eat something here—”

“ _Don’t want to eat here._ ”

“—and then play in the tunnels.” Luisa placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and then turned her to face the play area. “Don’t you want to go play?”

The frown on Mia’s face didn’t disappear entirely, but her eyes grew wide as she looked at the big tunnels. “I can go in those?”

Luisa nodded. “Mmhm. Just get on your hands and knees,” she started, and she moved from her place at the table only for her sweater to stick the slightest bit before moving. She winced and gave a disgusted look to Rose, who on a normal occasion might have laughed, but right now wasn’t as amused as she’d usually be. Luisa looked at Mia with that same wince.

“You know how to crawl on your hands and knees, honey.” Rose reached over and patted Mia’s shoulder. “That’s how you play in the tunnels. Now go have fun.”

Mia looked from Luisa to Rose and then back again before giving herself a little nod, her hands clenched into fists, and scampering over to the play area. Rose watched as their daughter ran off before turning back to Luisa. “And why didn’t I know about this play date before now?”

Luisa shrugged. “Spur of the moment play date. Her friend asked her today. _I_ didn’t know until today.” She smiled, but she looked as exhausted as Rose felt. “How was your day?”

“Horrible. Followed by being _here_ instead of being at home. Which makes it _more_ horrible.” Rose pushed her blue and white paisley bandanna off of her head and crumpled it in her hands. “Do I have to stay?”

“ _Yes._ ” Luisa reached over, examined the table to make sure she avoided any blatantly sticky spots, and took Rose’s hand in both of her own. “I don’t want to meet kids’ parents alone. They want to meet _you_ , too. Mia tells the kids a lot about you.”

“What does she say?” Rose asked, curious.

Luisa’s smile turned smug. “That you’re a criminal mastermind who killed her granddaddy and that’s why she can’t spend Christmas with her cousins.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “She does _not_ say that.”

“She _does_. The kids have turned you into an epic war villain. They fight you on the playground. Apparently they take turns being you. Mia’s you more than most of them. She says it’s her birthright.”

“ _It’s her birthright_ ,” Rose echoed with another groan. “She doesn’t know that word; you’re making all of this up.”

“ _She learned that word from you._ ” Luisa stared at her, suppressing a laugh. “And I’m not making it up.”

Rose looked over to where their daughter was scampering through the tunnels just as she passed through one of the clear spots. “She’s going to get me caught again.”

Luisa shook her head. “None of the parents believe any of it. She’s at that age where kids _like_ to make up stories about their parents. Sandy says that she was a desert bandit ninja a few months ago and that Mia will move on eventually. She’s supposed to start making stuff up about _me_ next.”

“Oh, yes. Have her tell all the kids that her mama used to be a doctor until she got another woman pregnant. They’ll _love_ that.”

Luisa shrugged. “Knowing kids, half of them will pretend to be me and half of them will pretend to be Jane. The parents won’t believe that either.”

“Some of them are going to have read that article you published…that newspaper one—”

“ _Rose, it has been years. None of them are going to remember that_ ,” Luisa hissed.

But Rose just leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “It only takes _one_ of them.”

“You want me to tell your daughter to stop talking about her amazing mother? Because that’s just going to make it worse.”

“I didn’t say that either.” Rose sighed and rubbed her forehead with the heels of her hands. “It’s been a long day.” She sighed and looked up, briefly meeting Luisa’s eyes. “Can I borrow something from you? Something very small? I’ll give it back – I’ve just needed one _all day_.”

Luisa’s head tilted to one side as Rose continued her request. “Sure, if it’s…if it’s that important to you. You don’t even have to give it back; you can keep it through tomorrow, if I have a spare, so that you don’t need one at work tomorrow.” Her brow furrowed as Rose chuckled. “What? What’s so funny? What did you want?”

Rose grinned and leaned forward. “A kiss.”

Luisa’s eyes widened and then, all too soon, she, too, was grinning. “Well, of course. I will want it back _immediately_ , though. Kisses are very, _very_ important to me.”

“I know.” Rose brushed her nose against Luisa’s as Luisa leaned forward across the table.

Their lips were just about to touch, barely brushing against each other, when—

“ _Luisa!_ And you must be _Clara_.”

Luisa leaned away all at once, and Rose gave a frustrated sigh. Guess she would have to wait a little bit longer.

But hopefully not _too_ long.


	11. luisa's cute oh no

There’s a moment.

There’s _always_ a moment – or there _would be_ if Rose had ever felt this way about anyone other than Luisa, so maybe there’s _not_ always a moment, maybe it’s just Luisa, pulling these moments out of her that she never knew existed or never knew even could – so it’s just **now** and the moment is now and this is just _who she is now_ – or who she would be, if she was allowed that – or who she is allowed to be now, because the constraints are finally gone—

Here she is, with the woman she loves curled up in her arms, using her chest as a pillow as she slept, curling closer by nature whenever her dreams get dark or whenever she feels cold or whenever…just _whenever_ , light framing her dark hair with a thin layer of spun gold, and Rose can’t help but brush her fingers through her hair and down the fabric of her lace negligee, just along the length of her spine.

Luisa lets out a satisfied little huff and snuggles closer as her eyes slowly open. It takes a second or longer – her hazel eyes sparking that same gold that frames her hair – before she seems fully awake, and as she grows accustomed to herself again, she smiles, slowly, slowly, sweet and sincere. “Are you watching me sleep again?”

“Maybe a little.” Rose can’t help but smile with satisfaction as she watches the love of her life arouse in her arms. “I know you read that _Twilight_ trash; I know you love it.”

“I don’t think you’d die just because you couldn’t live without me, though.” Luisa butts her head up Rose’s chin. “Good thing I don’t have to worry about that.” She wraps her arms around Rose’s silk and hums in satisfaction.

Rose brushes a hand through Luisa’s hair again, and as Luisa begins to purr, she asks, her voice quiet, “Have you always been this cute, or did you have to work at it?”

“Oh, I was always this cute… _and_ I worked at it.” Luisa moves just enough to meet Rose’s eyes. “Talent and hard work together? You can’t beat me at cuteness.”

“I wouldn’t even try.” Rose bent down and kissed the tip of Luisa’s nose, grinning as the other woman’s face scrunched up. “It’s more fun to just enjoy you.”

“You can say that again.”


	12. bar sitting again

Oh.

_Oh no._

It’s one of those _long days_ and Rose is sitting at the bar at the Marbella with her head half in her hands – which she is allowed, given that her husband owns the hotel and her son-in-law is…pretending to be the owner with his _one-thirds share_ when his dad still owns the other two-thirds, but someone might think it’s cute how he tries (she doesn’t) – and the moment, almost the exact moment that she lets out a sigh, there’s a familiar (and normally semi-welcoming, _if she wasn’t at the bar at the Marbella_ ) presence sidling up next to her and saying, without dropping a beat, “Hey,” thumb out, pointing to _aforementioned son-in-law_ without even looking in her direction, “my friend over there wants to know if you think I’m cute.”

Rose turns to Luisa with crystal eyes flashing steel and without the grin she knows her love wants (one that would, somehow, mimic the smug one on Luisa’s face that is not so slowly slipping away). “Rethink that question.” Her eyes flick over to Rafael, who, fortunately enough, isn’t paying either of them any attention in the slightest, instead focusing on whoever it is that he’s meeting with (not his wife, because she’d seen Petra while coming down to the bar and had actually asked her to join her – bad idea, Petra’s pregnant, she hadn’t _forgotten_ , because she hadn’t expected Petra to _drink_ , but the blonde had given her such a look, that she’d let it pass – but, truth be told, she missed the girls nights that she’d held with her daughter-in-law and stepdaughter – they were significantly more fun than they sounded), and then back to Luisa, her jaw clenched.

Luisa lets out a sigh – not the same kind of exhausted one that Rose’d given before, but more of an annoyed, frustrated one. “You’re a killjoy.” She scoots into the stool next to her and looks up at the bartender. “Ginger ale, please.” She frowns a bit as she says it, but _at least she’s not drinking_. “You can still think I’m cute without thinking I’m cute. I’ve got an IQ of 152; I’m not going to hit on my hot stepmother at my father’s hotel while my brother is watching. Not _sober_ , at least.” The ginger ale comes and she stares at it and sighs again before taking a sip and grimacing. “It’s not the same,” she says with that little hint of a whine in her voice.

She knows better than to give her anything more familiar than a shoulder squeeze or a pat in public – no forehead kisses, nothing to indicate that she actually, you know, _cares_ more than a normal stepmother would for her stepdaughter – and even what might be considered normal in any other family might seem unusual here, when she appears to be younger than the stepdaughter in question – but she reaches over to give her the shoulder squeeze anyway. It’s familiar, it’s comforting, it’s…what was the word Luisa liked to use? Encouraging? Maybe? Rose has never needed the physical encouragement, never really wanted it, never really given it before Luisa, never really wanted to – but with Luisa, it flows easily enough. “It’s better for you.”

“Don’t tell me what’s better for me while getting mad at me for trying to cheer you up.” Luisa sticks her tongue out at Rose. “Can’t a stepdaughter try to be nice to her loving stepmother?”

“No,” Rose says point blank. “Unless you’re going to ask me for something that you know I’ll say no to…or that _your dad_ already said no to. Is that what you’re doing here, Luisa?”

And there it is, that little smug grin that makes her heart clench in that way she’s never felt with anyone else before, before Luisa says, her voice dropping, “What do you _want_ me to be doing, Rose?”

She has to swallow, so she takes a drink of her bourbon (it’s not always her choice, but it is this time). “You know the answer to that question, I should think.”

And she did.


	13. motel room

Morning breaks early through the motel room in Fort Lauderdale. Luisa wakes easy, holding her hand up to shield her eyes, and stares at the beautiful redhead – _Rose_ – who she had met only hours before. Unlike herself, Rose had fallen asleep with her face away from the window and the sun now pouring through them; the light brushed across her bare back, illuminating the darker freckles across her pale skin, all of which Luisa had tried to kiss far too messily in their waking hours, but did not reach her eyes, which were still closed in slumber. Her hair, so meticulously crafted in perfect waves before their trip in the pool (or their trip in the shower – soaking wet to soaking wet; chlorine to clean but both not so much of either), had dried in curls like crinkly fries, spread gently across her pillow.

Luisa shifted, and Rose drew nearer to her, brushing her nose across the skin of her neck. But when Luisa settled against her again, hiding her face in the crook of her neck so that she could avoid the sunlight, Rose’s eyes, that beautiful crystal blue that had been so mesmerizing from the first, opened with a start, wide, startled. The redhead only relaxed as she recognized the woman before her, and as she did, a steady smile spread slow across her lips.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Luisa kissed her. It was an early morning kiss, a sleepy kiss, not quite chaste and not quite horny but somewhere settled in between, before she nestled herself against the other woman’s chest, waiting to see how Rose would respond. “How much time do you have?”

Rose’s fingers found the curve of Luisa’s waist, her touch so soft that Luisa jumped beneath it. “Enough,” she murmured. “I’ll have to leave to close the deal, but that won’t be until much, much later.” She leaned forward, chasing Luisa’s kiss with one of her own – still sleepy, but hungry now, needing.

Luisa bent beneath her, curving her fingers up along Rose’s neck as Rose shifted on top of her, then pushing them into the crinkle curls she found she loved just as much as the waves of before. “Wait,” she said, and the look of confusion painted across Rose’s face left something warm burning in the center of her chest. For a moment, she looked around the room, then frowned, her brows furrowing. “I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I have yours, by any chance?”

Rose didn’t miss a beat, kissing her again instead of verbally responding, and Luisa melted at her touch. When she broke away again, the redhead said, her eyes tracing Luisa’s skin, “Not now. I’m a little preoccupied. Ask me again later.”

But Luisa grew so distracted in their proceedings that she completely forgot until much, much later.


	14. too many bars and not enough sitting

“I think it’s time for me to go.”

Luisa glances over to the bar, takes a deep breath, and shivers once. Then she looks down and away, at her hands, where they fidget together. She winces. “It’s one thing to have a bottle in my office just to look at it, but it’s…it’s _hard_.” Her eyes wander back to the bar, and she sighs. “I want a drink. Bars are for drinking, Rose.”

“And for meeting pretty girls.” Rose smoothly slides one long leg over the other, the edge of her dress sliding just as smoothly up her thigh. “Pretty girls like me.”

Luisa nods, her cheeks growing red. “If I hadn’t met you, I probably would have—”

“Don’t go there, baby.” Rose reaches over, placing her hand on Luisa’s thigh. “I’m here now. You _did_ meet me.” She meets Luisa’s eyes, brushes her hair ever so gently out of her face. “You didn’t – and you _won’t_ – do anything like that. I won’t let you.”

Luisa doesn’t drop Rose’s gaze, but her smile isn’t happy at all. “You can’t stop me.” Then her head tilts to one side, and she kisses Rose’s cheek. “But thanks for trying.” She stands and begins to move to the bar’s entrance, taking a deep breath, only to have her hand grabbed.

“Hey,” Rose says as Luisa turns to face her. “You forgot something.”

Luisa’s eyes widen, and she smiles, hesitant. “What?”

“ _Me._ ”

It’s easy – too easy – for Luisa to return the gentle squeeze of her hand with one of Rose’s and move just close enough to nuzzle her head in the redhead’s neck. “Don’t let me forget you again.”


	15. dinosaurs

“Mama,” Mia started as the credits to the cartoon began to roll, “ _I_ wanna go to the Great Valley! I wanna see Little Foot!” She looked up at Luisa with her dark brown eyes, her hands clenched into little fists.

Luisa reached over and brushed her hands gently through her daughter’s dark frizzy red hair. “Baby, I don’t think we can go see them. They lived a very long time ago, so—” She winced and turned to Rose for help.

“Kiss me if I’m wrong,” Rose said, her head tilting to one side as though she were deep in thought, “but dinosaurs still exist, right?” Her eyes met Luisa’s, and they twinkled with mischief.

“ _Rose, this is not the time_ ,” Luisa said, punching her wife’s shoulder.

Rose feigned shock. “I said _kiss me_ if I’m wrong, not _punch me_! I feel attacked!”

“Well, you should! I punched you! That’s an attack!”

For a moment, everything was quiet. Rose’s lips were turned down into a pout, frowning at Luisa, and then she looked away and met Mia’s eyes with that twinkling in her look. “You know what we do when your mama attacks me, don’t you?”

“We attack back!” Mia exclaimed, throwing her fists in the air.

“No, no, no, no—”

But her startled words and her hands up, palms out, didn’t stop her daughter from jumping all over her. Mia’s fingers searched out all of Luisa’s ticklish spots, and as soon as they did, Luisa began to tickle her small child, too, until Mia was gasping for air and there were tears in Luisa’s eyes.

Then, Luisa gestured towards Rose with a smug grin. “You can’t tickle me without getting your mom in on the fun, too.”

Rose curled up in a little ball, trying to protect herself, even though she knew nothing would work. Her eyes met Luisa’s as she exclaimed, just before her doom, “ _You still owe me a kiss!_ ”


	16. car troubles

“ _This hunk of trash—_ ”

Luisa let out a long string of words, switching naturally and easily enough from one language to the next as she grabbed for words strong enough to express her displeasure and finding that the stream of them helped more than any one particular word would. She slammed the door of her purple cruiser – by this point, it was older than most of her cars had been; it’d always seemed easier to her to just buy a new car or trade her old one in than try to do any specific mechanical work on them – and she had the money to do it, so why not? _But_ she had a particular affinity for the cruisers, and they’d taken them off the market, so that meant she had to keep this one in tip-top shape and she…didn’t know how to do that. At all. _At all._

So here she was, on the side of the road, with a car that wouldn’t start.

Her first mistake was trying to kick and hit the side of the car, which was _death hot_ after being out in the Miami sun for so long. Now her hand hurt, and her foot hurt (because kicking a large metal thick behemoth of a thing while you were wearing heeled sandals wasn’t the best idea, who knew?), and she was in that stretch of the road where her cell phone didn’t work, which meant she was going to have to walk _miles in that same Miami heat_ to get off the freeway and find herself somewhere where 1) she could use a phone or 2) she could find an auto-mechanic to _fix her trash heap of a car_ or—

Well. There was another option.

\--and so, leaning up against the purple car with her top off (she was wearing a bra! she didn’t want to get arrested for public indecency! that, on top of the shitty car trouble, would be absolutely horrible!) and her head tilted back, her sunglasses up, and her long brown hair trailed craftily along her shoulders and her breasts, Luisa found herself her first hapless helper drawn in by her beauty.

Now, noticeably, she didn’t expect her first helper to be a woman, and even more to the point, she didn’t expect said woman to be equal to her own gorgeousness – all bright red hair carefully curled into waves, soft pink blouse that left little to the imagination, and short white pencil skirt – _skirt and heels_ , there was no way this woman could—

“Is your battery dead?” the woman asked, pounding her pale white freckle-covered hand on the top of Luisa’s hood. “Because I’d like to jump you.”

Luisa’s brows raised, her tongue swiping across her pale lips, and she swallowed once before saying, voice soft, “Jump _me_ or jump _the car_?”

The redhead smiled. “Your car doesn’t have that kind of trouble. Dead battery would keep it from starting at all, not get you stranded on the side of the road.” She walked over, heels clacking on the road somehow loud enough for Luisa to hear them. “I’m Rose,” she said, holding out her hand, “and I know a bit about cars. Not enough about you.”

Luisa laughed and didn’t take the woman’s hand. “You’re trying to pick me up over car trouble?”

“Maybe.” The woman’s smile didn’t drop. “Is it working?”

Luisa shrugged. “A little bit.” Her gaze drifted to Rose’s car, which _must_ have air conditioning since it was, you know, _running_. “Get me somewhere with cell service where I don’t feel like I’m dying of heat, and maybe then _I’ll_ jump _you_.”

Rose’s gaze drifted a little lower than perhaps was proper before returning to Luisa’s eyes. “Got it.” She tilted her head towards her car. “C’mon. I’ll give you a lift. We can come back to fix this,” and here she nodded to Luisa’s car, “later.”

“You can fix her?” Luisa asked, her eyes wide, as she followed Rose to her car.

Rose chuckled, a pleasant sound, and instead of going directly to her side, she went to the passenger’s, holding the door open for Luisa. “I know a bit. Enough to get her up and running again, unless it’s one of those _extremely technical_ issues.”

“That is _so_ hot.”

“Makes you want to jump me more?”

Luisa’s brows rose. “Maybe.” She waited for Rose to get into the car before saying, “You’ll want to change into something a little more comfortable before car work.” It was so easy to reach over and just brush her fingertips along Rose’s skin. “I’d like to see you with your clothes _off_ before I decide.”

She expected Rose to shrink a little at the comment, but the redhead surprised her, saying without a moment’s hesitation, “And after standing outside in the heat for so long, I’m sure _you’ll_ want a _shower_. Maybe I’ll join you.”

“Maybe you will.”


	17. kids and the lack thereof

She doesn’t say anything about it for a very long time.

At the start of their relationship, it didn’t matter. Really, it didn’t. Rose was married to someone else (and while it _did_ matter, it didn’t much matter who), and, eventually, she was, too. She’d had the conversation with Allison because, being married and all, they’d _had_ to have it – did they want kids, would they like kids, who would have the kids if they had them, how many they were thinking about – and while Allison had the conversation, it hadn’t felt permanent. Of course it hadn’t. _Allison_ wasn’t permanent. Hadn’t been _interested_ in permanent. Had pulled another woman into their bed within two months of their marriage, haphazard as they were. She was always meant to be a fun ride, a booty call to get drunk with, not a long-term partner. Allison didn’t have to say that; Luisa knew it.

Rose never mentioned kids. The one time—

No, Rose never mentioned kids. She never had to. All Luisa had to do was _imagine_ Rose with kids and think, you know, _maybe not_. It brought a smile to her face to think about, but the kind of smile that said the whole idea was funny, _laughable, really_ , even though it broke her heart just the littlest bit.

But it didn’t matter. Really. It didn’t.

That _not mattering_ ate her up inside.

* * *

Luisa temples her fingers together over her lunch – not eggs but a substance meant to taste and have the same texture as them – and taps them against each other before interlacing them and placing them back in her lap. If she were still a child, she would be swinging her legs under the table, trying to use them to work herself up to speak, but she’d just kick Rose if she tried to do that now.

She knows she should say it. They haven’t been in therapy together, and she hasn’t had relational therapy, but she knows that leaving something important unsaid only led to problems in a relationship. Rose being a crime lord, for instance, had been a huge hurtle to overcome…which, notably, had only been overcome when Luisa had 1) been kidnapped by another crime lord and Rose had rescued her (ish) and 2) been kidnapped by none other than Rose herself, who had only done so under the misguided assumption that Luisa thought being kidnapped was romantic (she did! it was! not really. it really wasn’t. she should remember that it’s not romantic and it’s actually a little bit terrifying BUT being kidnapped by Rose was such a more wonderful experience of being kidnapped _and_ had involved a lot of _incredible sex_ and some talking about their relationship that had needed to happen for a really long time, so it didn’t really _feel_ like kidnapping so much as…finally being locked in a room and having to hash things out. and, truth be told, she’d wanted to do that with Rose for a very long time. so…all’s well that ends well? right? well, it’s ending well so far).

“Luisa?” Rose says her name in that way she does that sounds like the concern she knows Rose has trained herself to be able to make known. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s _wrong_ , exactly.” Well, other than the normal. Her brother doesn’t want anything to do with her, her dad is dead, she still hasn’t met her nephew (who arguably only exists because of her fuck up _but who is counting_ ) – okay, so there are _a lot_ of things wrong, but nothing more than already is.

“You’re acting nervous.” Rose reaches over and places her hand atop Luisa’s, the fingers of which have begun to tap again. She glances around the restaurant. “Are you seeing something? Is it someone you recognize? Do we need to go?”

“No, no, _none of that_ , I just….” Luisa takes a deep breath. Not saying it now, after trying to build herself up to it, is probably just going to get Rose antsy, too. Rose doesn’t get _afraid_ , but that doesn’t mean she likes knowing that Luisa is leaving something unsaid or hiding something from her. The same as any person would be. Not worried. Curious. Inquisitive. Maybe a little pressing when she notices that Luisa’s nervous like she is now. “I can’t have kids.”

“Oh.” Rose leans back in her chair, resting her head in one hand. “That’s not a problem. I could go get a kid for you.”

“ _Rose, that’s not what I meant._ ”

“I know.” Rose’s grin fades as she watches Luisa’s face. “You’re not laughing. What’s wrong?”

Luisa takes another deep breath. “I _want_ kids.”

Rose nods, and then her brow furrows. “Are you an orphanage?”

Luisa blinks a couple of times. “No. I don’t have to be an orphanage to want kids, Rose, I just—”

“Because I want to _give you_ kids.” Rose reaches over again and places her hand back on Luisa’s. “If you want kids, let’s go get kids. Kid. Singular.” She glances away briefly. “Let me get used to _one_ kid before you get more kids, but we can have _kids_ if you want _kids_. They can’t be that hard to get.” Then she grins, her eyes lighting up. “I could probably arrange to have Mateo taken again if you—”

“ _Rose._ ” But this time, Luisa laughs, relaxed with the immediate response. “You really don’t mind?”

Rose’s brow furrows. “Why would I mind? I love you, and I want what _you_ want. If you want kids, _I want kids_. It’s that simple.”

“Are you sure?” Luisa asks. “It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you would choose for yourself.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t.” Rose shrugs. “But that’s being in a relationship, isn’t it? Finding out you’re okay with things you wouldn’t be okay with with anyone else?” She grins. “So, with you, fine. With anyone else, though—” She makes a slashing note across her neck with one finger.

“Death instead of kids, got it.”


	18. please don't be drinking lu

“ _Luisa._ ”

She knew that look. She knew that _expression_. She knew that mode of action. All of them together said that Luisa was drunk – probably not black out drunk because the other had confided to her that she rarely got that far gone anymore, that it had happened once and terrified her so much to wake up in some girl’s bed with no memory of who the other girl was or how she got there that she’d tried desperately not to let it happen again (and failed, multiple times, with each one being no less terrifying even with their regularity).

Except that, strangely, there were certain hallmarks of _Luisa drunk mode_ that weren’t present here: one sandal a little bit unstrapped and beginning to slip off of her foot (usually the left one, her big toe staying on while her pinky and next little toe hanging off the other side), her hair messed up and the part all scattered and broken (usually just one strand from one side pulled a little to the other side because Luisa had a habit of playing with her hair when she was really drunk and just passing the lock she was playing with from one hand to the other without really thinking about it), and, above all, that overwhelming smell of _alcohol_ that seemed to drip from her every pore (not because Luisa had a habit of spilling it, because she was very good about not spilling a drop – if she was going to get a drink, she was going to _drink_ the drink, unless she was using it to remind herself that she _wasn’t drinking_ , in which case _spilling it didn’t do anyone any good either_ – a sentence that really only worked for Luisa herself).

“You’re not drinking, are you?”

Rose’s eyes didn’t narrow the way they would if she were certain of hijinks, but her brows still lifted with concern.

“Course not, baby,” Luisa said, creeping towards Rose and curving her hand along her cheek. Still not even the slightest scent of liquor on her breath, which backed up her statement. “I’m not drunk; I’m just intoxicated by you.”

Rose blinked a couple of times before her lips spread into a sly grin. “Real smooth, Lu.”

“Smooth enough to get a kiss?” Luisa batted her eyelashes at Rose until the redhead bent down to her, capturing her lips with a kiss.

Didn’t _taste_ like liquor, either. Huh. Good.

So, given that Luisa passed all of her tests (Rose didn’t have a breathalyzer and wouldn’t have submitted her to one even if she did. There was a certain level of trust needed here), she let the other woman deepen the kiss into something a little more hungry and a little less chaste before leaning her ever so gently against the door.

No drinking. Good pick up line. Luisa deserved to be rewarded for that. And it wasn’t like there would be anyone around to interrupt them for quite a while.

Even if there was, none of them mattered.

Just the woman safe and sober beneath her fingertips.


	19. siren call

Sweat poured from Clara’s skin as she finally made it up the hiking trail. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and stared out across the mountain lake – the reason she’d come up here in the first place. Her stepmother had told her to not worry about coming back for the holidays, so she hadn’t, instead finding somewhere she could put up a tent and stake out for a few days or so at a time without having to worry about too much interference. The hiking had been rough, but she was warm and it was warm and there was the lake – bright, sparkling, cold water, clear and clean and—

As she drew closer, Clara could see another tent staked into place just a little bit away, and her eyes widened as she saw the shape of someone else swimming in the lake. So she wasn’t – and wouldn’t be – as alone here as she thought. Well enough. She made over to another spot and began to stake her tent into place – pulling it out of the pack she’d carried up with her (too heavy, likely part of why she was sweating so much) and taking care to get it spread out when—

“ _Hey._ ”

The other figure – who happened to be a woman – a _beautiful_ woman, by the way, from what Clara could see (and was trying _not_ to see through the fairly clear water) – was now near the shore nearest to Clara. Not entirely on it – she appeared to not be wearing anything, which, honestly, had been Clara’s plan where the lake was concerned until she’d noticed there was someone else there – but she was near enough to wave, her long brown hair trailing out behind her. She could have been a mermaid or a siren for all Clara was concerned.

Clara swallowed, eyes glancing away. “Hey yourself.”

“Are you going to come join me?”

Clara could feel her cheeks flush a bright, _hot_ red, which was saying something, since she was certain they were already a bright, flushed red just from the hike up here. “I was thinking about it.”

“Well, c’mon, then!” The brunette laughed, gesturing to her.

Clara looked back to her tent equipment, wiped a hand across her forehead again, and then nodded. “Okay.”

She hadn’t brought a lot of extra clothes with her – she hadn’t wanted to carry too terribly much at all on her hike, and she knew with the lake she could probably wash some of her clothes herself and not need a lot of them – so she stripped down to her underwear (and poured on another bunch of sunscreen, although she already felt the barest hint of sunburn along her freckled skin) and started toward the shoreline. As she approached, the other woman seemed to back away then stayed almost in one place until Clara swam out to meet her.

“I’m Clara,” she said – because this close she could tell, _really tell_ , that the woman wasn’t wearing anything, and she felt it would only be polite to introduce herself. (Or maybe if she introduced herself she’d get the other woman’s name, which is what she really wanted.)

“Luisa.”

_Score._

“My eyes are _up here_ , you know.”

_Shit._

“I’m not looking at your boobs,” Clara said, immediately, pulling on all of the shitty pick up lines she’d been told by men at bars who she’d never been interested in (and who had such a hard time realizing that she wasn’t). “I’m looking at your heart.”

“Uh-huh.” Luisa nodded once and then swam a little closer to her, taking her hand with one of her own. “Well, if you’re looking at my heart,” she moved Clara’s hand until it was just cupping the underside of her left breast, “you’ll want to be looking in _this_ direction.”

Well, that worked better than it had on her.

Clara looked up and found Luisa grinning at her as she brushed long strands of her brown hair back over her shoulder. Luisa leaned forward. “That _is_ what you wanted, isn’t it?”

At her words, Clara gently spread her fingers along Luisa’s skin and let out a big breath, relaxing. She didn’t want to say anything. That whole _siren_ thing was a really loud idea right now, but she’d maybe follow her out into the center of the lake and get eaten. Luisa was probably really good at the whole _eating_ business.

Luisa leaned forward and kissed her, and Clara could feel the grin against her lips as she kissed her back.

Oh, not just probably. _Definitely._


	20. kiss the stars

“You’re here.”

Rose curled up against Luisa as the other woman settled into bed next to her, and Luisa rested her head against Rose’s chest with a contented sigh, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I’m here, I’m here.” She looked up just long enough to press a kiss to the edge of Rose’s chin. “Did you miss me?”

Luisa had been gone too long – not long at all, considering how long they’d been apart before – but she’d gone to visit Rafael, to explain to him and Michael exactly as Rose had told her to explain, and Rose had… _not worried_ , because she was never afraid, but she hadn’t exactly felt comfortable. The two idiots wouldn’t have talked Luisa out of being with her, she didn’t think, but so many things could go wrong that she’d…she didn’t like sending Luisa there on her own. She’d felt uneasy. She’d wanted to send a bodyguard, but they would’ve noticed that. Besides, a bodyguard wouldn’t have protected Luisa the way she would have.

Rose shifted and instead of kissing her, she just brushed Luisa’s hair out of her eyes. “Do you know what I did last night?”

“No,” Luisa said, her eyes widening. “What did you do?”

“Counted each of the stars and gave them each a reason why I loved you.”

It sounded cheesy, but that didn’t make it any less true. She’d fallen asleep while doing it. A lot better than counting sheep the previous nights had been.

“Oh, really?” Luisa scooted up and gave Rose a proper kiss before snuggling down again. “Like I do with your freckles.”

“You kiss my freckles. I can’t exactly kiss the stars. They’re a little far away.”

Luisa brushed her fingers under Rose’s shirt. “You could try.” She pressed a kiss to Rose’s skin. “Shirt off. You don’t get to give reasons you love me without hearing reasons I love you.”

“You didn’t even hear them!” But of course Rose gave in. She always did, when it was Luisa, now that she didn’t have to pretend to be someone else – and even then, she’d been hard pressed to keep herself together and had given in more often than she should have (but not more often than she liked). She hummed with contentment. This was the way they were supposed to be.

Just. like. this.


	21. university stud au

It’s been months since they met. Well. No, not really _months_. Luisa only remembers the cute redhead who passed her that one time on the street and then asked for a pencil at the library if she had one and then sat at the far table by herself in the dining hall and always had a book with her – not even studying, unless it was one of the books her English professors assigned (and they assigned some weird books, so it was entirely possible, but who wanted to do all that studying over _lunch_ , too? this girl, apparently).

Okay, so maybe it _has_ been months, but they technically haven’t _met_. Luisa only really knows her name because she’s been – _no, she has not been stalking her_ – but she _might have_ found out which of the res halls she lives in and knows which window is hers and sometimes stares up at it when it’s dark and sees that the light is still on and—

She’s not _stalking_ her. She doesn’t know her class schedule! (Chemistry on Tuesday and Thursday mornings and then lab on Wednesday evenings; Calculus 3 on Monday/Wednesday/Friday; and _probably the English class_ on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons because she’s seen her in Carlisle Hall, and that’s just _chock full_ of English professors – but it’s not Daniels’s class because Daniels doesn’t have a class then. Okay, so she might know _some_ of her schedule. Just three of her four-five classes. You know. Because she’s passed her sometimes. On the way to her classes. It’s not like they’re out of the way!)

She hasn’t followed her anywhere off campus! She’s _thought about it_ , but she hasn’t _done it_ , and that’s the important thing, right?

Luisa went to the girl bar because she wanted a drink and she didn’t want to deal with the assholes who hit on her when she went to the other bars (even though she _liked_ going to those bars sometimes because her friends were there) and _maybe, just maybe_ she’d find herself a nice date or someone to keep her bed warm (or she could keep _her_ bed warm, you know, either would work just fine for her) and then _maybe_ she’d get over this helpless crush that she had on the redhead whose name she knew was _Rose_ (she’d overheard it…and maybe seen it on one of her pages that day she asked for a pencil at the library) but who probably didn’t even know she existed.

Thirty minutes pass and she’s still drinking because she _likes_ drinking and none of the girls have particularly caught her eye (because she’s still caught up on that cute redhead) and she’s fiddling with the straw in her drink and then there’s this collective hush as _someone_ walks in and she turns to look and—

_The redhead. The redhead! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT DRESS?!_

—and then just as quickly turns away, her face flushed, hiding herself because she’s not going to come see her, she’s probably here with a date, people don’t dress like _that_ for just _anyone_ , and _oh no, she’s scooting onto one of the stools next to her at the bar and—_

“Hey.”

Luisa swallows. Yeah, okay, _you are Luisa Alver, you can pick up any chick you want, calm your tits_ , and she takes a deep breath, turns, “Hey.”

“You look familiar,” the redhead says, tilting her head so that her hair can just run across her fingers – _and ugh, does she look even more gorgeous with her hair down, Luisa didn’t think it was possible for her to look_ more _gorgeous, but it was and it is and UGH it is NOT fair_. “Do we have a class together?”

It’s instinct – Luisa’s eyes widen – she is going to get the chew out of the century in public because she’s been – _she hasn’t been following her, they just happen to be in the same space at the same spot and she remembered, that is not her fault!_ – and she looks away again, feeling her cheeks growing even hotter. “No. I’d know if we had a class together. Sorry.”

“Huh.” The redhead nodded once. “I was so certain we had chemistry together.”

Luisa freezes. Is she…is the gorgeous redhead… _is she hitting on her? Is this a prank? This has got to be a prank there is no way that the gorgeous redhead_ —

_HOLD UP ONE MINUTE YOU ARE LUISA FUCKING ALVER YOU ARE THE BEST CATCH IN THIS ENTIRE FUCKING BAR AND YOU FUCKING KNOW IT DON’T SELL YOURSELF SHORT HOT STUFF._

Luisa smiles. “Now that you mention it, I think you’re right.” She glances up through her lashes, bats them a couple of times, and feigns being a little doe-eyed. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Let me get yours.”

_Smooth._

“You got a name to go with that body of yours?”

The redhead’s eyes pop – okay, that was maybe a little too strong, but you know what, _she_ was flirting with _her_ first so if she doesn’t—

“Rose.” Her eyes run up Luisa’s body, and Luisa can feel her whole body tingle as if she were touching it. “Do you?”

 _Do I what?_ Luisa almost asks before realizing that Rose is just throwing her name back at her. She smiles. “Luisa Alver.”

“Well, Miss Alver,” and _ugh, Rose, that is not fair_ because there’s something about her voice saying her name with a title and that fake demure submissiveness _as she places her hand on her thigh and leans forward, that is really not fair Rose, it’s like she KNEW_ , “would you like to go somewhere else?”

It’s a gamble – Luisa knows it is, but she knows the signs and she wants… _more_ than the signs, she likes the redhead who she’s only ever seen with her hair pulled up and back in a quick ponytail with glasses perched on the edge of her nose just as much as she likes the lithe lynx sitting across from her – but she says, voice soft, “You owe me a drink first.”

Rose’s eyes don’t widen the way Luisa’s do – it’s just that little _something_ at their edges – and Luisa catches it, but just barely – before she nods once. “No one’s ever said that before.”

“Is that a good thing?” Luisa resists the impulse to take Rose’s hand and move it further up her thigh. She wants to give her the encouragement. _She thinks maybe she doesn’t need the encouragement, but she wants to feel her hand further up._

“It’s new.” Rose relaxes. “I like new.”

Luisa grins. “Then you’ll like _me_.”


	22. well it looks like someone's feeling better

She’d been feeling sick. At first, she’d thought it was a migraine because she got those – more frequently than she’d like to admit, and she’d gotten really good at acting like she _didn’t_ have them (although they always made her want to drink herself to sleep even though she knew that if she _did_ try to drink herself to sleep, she’d end up _not_ being asleep and _actually just being really drunk_ , which…hey, she was still on the bandwagon, so that was a plus! but that hadn’t stopped her from being miserable) – but then it didn’t go away and she kept feeling nauseous and Rose finally talked her into going to the doctor (for someone who had been a doctor and who was still called a doctor – just because she lost her license didn’t mean she lost her doctorate, thank you very much! – she still didn’t see herself as a doctor anymore, but Rose said it sometimes, and it always made her feel just a little bit better) and she _hadn’t_ had a migraine, that was just part of the _actual real life fever_ she’d had for the _actual real life cold flu ick_ she’d had and her body just _threw her a headache so bad it felt like a migraine_ to go with everything else because it didn’t know how to deal with actually being sick. Because she hadn’t been sick – _hasn’t_ been sick – in a very long time! Probably had something to do with how much she drank. Diseases probably had a hard time surviving in a body that was 65% alcohol instead of 65% water.

POINT IS she HAD been sick and now she was NOT sick – or was feeling less so but still had the last few antibiotics to take and no one had to tell her that she had to finish those she was a doctor – _had been_ a doctor – _was a doctor_ – and she knew that she had to finish her round of antibiotics or potentially end up with that cold that _couldn’t be killed by antibiotics_ because it just _evolved that well that fast_ – didn’t want to be that person, didn’t want to have that cold—

Luisa was feeling just well enough to climb out of bed (she hadn’t been doing that much. Rose convinced her to make it to the bathroom for a shower and she’d just thrown up everywhere and then cleaned it all off herself and then dragged herself back to bed with the groan that she’d clean it _all_ up when she was feeling better – when she’d woken up to pee, Rose had already cleaned it up, and she’d left a little kiss on Rose’s cheek and then wiped it off so that she wouldn’t get sick, too). Her fever had finally broken, her head felt like it’d been squeezed like an orange until every drop of juice was gone _but was finally no longer being squeezed, felt free, felt free, felt free!_

She felt like almost quite herself again. She sang in the shower. She _took_ a shower. The hot water felt so good coursing down her back. She shaved. She brushed all the knots and rats nests out of hair that hadn’t been touched in days. She wrapped herself in a towel and put on make-up so on point and so – what was the word the kids were using was it fleek she didn’t feel old but having to think that was a strange thought and she didn’t like it _she was on point and she looked good_ – and then dressed in a sunshiny summer dress that soft buttermilk yellow base with little blue and white flowers covering it that she knew Rose liked even if she didn’t like it quite as much (sometimes it felt simple, and today, well, she liked the simple, especially after how long she’d been in sweatpants and sweatshirt and felt so much bigger and bloated and ick).

And then presented herself to a woman who had absolutely no idea what she was in for.

Rose sat at their kitchen island with a bowl of cocoa puff knock-offs and a spoon halfway to her mouth with dripping milk, her bare toes curled around one of the stool bars, eyes widening as she caught Luisa coming in.

That image kind of destroyed the one Luisa’d been going for because all at once her face was contorted into a scowl. “ _You’re not supposed to be eating that!_ ”

“ _You got sick and left me to fend myself for days, Lu, what else was I going to eat? I ran out of leftovers! I didn’t want to go to one of your fancy restaurants and wait for hours while you were sick!_ ” Rose’s words came out in a thin hiss, her spoon dropping into the bowl with a splash that splattered milk on the island around it, but as she spoke, her words came out slower and slower, her eyes growing wider until finally, in the silence left by her hissing, she said, “Wow.”

The smile returned to Luisa’s face, and she could almost forgive the bowl of cheap chocolate cereal and milk sitting on their island that she’d caught her girlfriend eating instead of something _much healthier and better for her_ (like powdered donuts were really any better, who was she kidding here). “How do I look?” she asked, spreading her arms out and spinning for Rose to get a better look at her.

When she turned back around to face front, Rose had gotten up and walked over to her, and she reached out, just barely touching the waves of brown hair grazing her shoulder. “Babe, there’s not a word in the dictionary for how good you look right now.”

“Thank you.” Luisa leaned forward and kissed the edge of Rose’s lips, sucking the bit of chocolate milk that was just right there. “Unfortunately, I caught you with cereal, so looks like you won’t be enjoying any of this any time soon.”

“What?” Rose’s mouth dropped open as Luisa stepped away. “You’re really going to hold that against me? After I’ve been taking care of you for _days_ —”

Luisa laughed and kissed her again – a bit more properly this time. “I wouldn’t want to get you sick now, would I?” But she smiled – Rose would be plenty sick if she was going to already. “Besides, didn’t say you couldn’t have _fun_. Just not _now_.” She brushed her hands through Rose’s curls. “Maybe after you shower. And get dressed up. We can go out and do something.” Her eyes sparkled. “ _Please, I’m sick of being in our apartment._ ”

“If that’s what you want,” Rose said, leaning forward just enough to brush her lips against Luisa’s again, “then that’s what you’ll get.”


	23. what's the journal rose

“Rose? What is this?”

The redhead’s head popped up from beneath the sink where she’d been trying her hardest to fix a leaky faucet – and actually _succeeding_ she would like to point out – only to hit the cupboard with a resounding _bang_. She groaned and slowly moved out from under the faucet, rubbing her forehead and bringing her hand back with a spot of blood on it. Another groan again.

“Rose?” Luisa’s head popped out from their spare room, and her eyes widened at the sight of her frizzy-haired redhead with a bleeding bonk on her head. “Are you okay?” she asked, racing over to her with a not quite blank notebook in her hands. Then she bent down in front of her and touched the bright red stripe on her forehead.

Rose winced. “ _Lu, that hurts_ ,” she hissed.

“Shush, I’m a doctor, let me check you out.”

Before Luisa could even realize what she’d just said, Rose snorted, flinching away from Luisa’s touch, and started to chuckle. “Babe, you can check me out whenever you want. You don’t have to call yourself a _doctor_.”

“Rose, that’s not what I—” Luisa pressed her lips together in a firm little pout and reached out again. “ _Stay still._ ” Her eyes narrowed. “And don’t poke fun at me being a doctor. I think I’d still been one if you hadn’t married my dad.”

“You can’t pin that on me—”

“I can pin whatever I want on you, miss international crime lord.” Luisa stuck her tongue out then pressed a kiss to Rose’s forehead. “There,” she said. “All better.”

“Still hurts.”

“ _All better_ ,” Luisa repeated, kissing Rose’s forehead again.

Rose chuckled again. “Yeah, sure, okay.” She leaned forward and brushed their noses together before kissing her. “ _Now_ all better.”

“I don’t even have a cut there!”

“You didn’t need one.” Rose kissed her again. “I just like kissing you.” One more time, her hand covering Luisa’s other one, and her brows furrowed as she pulled away. “What do you have there?”

“That’s what I was coming to ask you!” Luisa said, and she pulled the notebook out, opening it immediately to a page full of Rose’s neat, tidy handwriting. She pointed to the lines and frowned. “What are these?”

Rose ran her eyes down the page and frowned. “They’re exactly what they look like.”

“ _You wrote down a bunch of puns?!_ ”

“Well, yeah.” Rose sat back, crossing her arms. “Sometimes you come up with a good pick up line and there’s no one around to use it on and you can’t think of the right moment to use it, so you write it down to remember for later—”

“ _‘I wanna live in your socks so I can be with you every step of the way’_ is not a good pick up line, Rose. That’s not even a good pun. It’s just sad.”

Rose ran her finger down the lines and scooted a little closer to Luisa. “You look cold,” she murmured, pointing at one of the lines. “Want to use me as a blanket?”

Luisa blushed briefly. “On the couch. Not on the floor. Not on the floor in the kitchen. But yes, on the couch, I would _love_ to use you as a blanket. All wrapped up around me. With a lot of kisses. _Now, please._ ” She wrapped her arm around Rose’s waist. “I’m not asking. That’s just a very loud suggestive _demand_.”

Rose took her notebook back and shut it, shoving it in a nearby drawer. “No more reading my pick up lines. _That one_ was _good_ and I don’t want you stealing them.”

Luisa batted her lashes. “But don’t you _like_ it when I use puns?”

Rose pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Yes. But find your own. Let me keep mine.” She shifted ever so gently. “Snuggle please? On the couch? Like you so kindly demanded?”

Luisa burst into a grin and grabbed Rose’s wrist, tugging on her not so gently. “Yes. C’mon. Let’s go.”

It was always far too easy to give in to Luisa – easier now since her head still hurt (as much as she wanted the kisses to make it all better, it really didn’t) and she’d finished the faucet enough that it was no longer drip-drip-dripping in time with their clock (more like _off_ time – the tick would happen and then the drip and then sometimes together and sometimes not quite together and that had annoyed her more than it had Luisa) – and Rose pushed herself up, lifting Luisa in her arms despite—

“ _Rose, I hate being lifted, put me down!_ ”

—and small little fists pummeling against her shoulder blades and between them, which _should have_ hurt but not as much as letting herself get shot in the arm when she’d been feigning Susanna Barnett (yes, that actually happened, and yes, that actually hurt). She swooped her over to the couch and crumpled into a small little ball with her in the center, wrapping her long arms and legs around her. “There,” she said, grinning, “blanket me.”

Luisa pouted. “That’s not a good pun. You should come up with something better.”

“Sorry,” she said, grinning with her tongue just poking out near her canines, “I left my notebook in there. Be a dear and get it for me?”

“ _No, you’re staying right here and being my blanket._ ” Luisa poked her once and shifted beneath and against her until she was quite comfortable. “ _No moving._ ”

“You sure?” Rose asked as she leaned over, pulled Luisa a little closer, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “What if I like kissing you?”

Luisa giggled. “Ok. Kissing movement is okay.” She curved forward to face her and gave her another kiss. “And other things. Some other things can be okay, too.”

Rose didn’t have to wait long to find out what _other things_ meant.


	24. you're supposed to be staying out of the journal lu

“Luisa.”

There’s no sound from the kitchen, where her wife is supposed to be cooking. Rose’s eyes narrow. “Luisa, what are you doing?” She walks into the kitchen to see Luisa curled up next to the oven – which is still on, with a timer set just above it and not yet going off – with a little notebook in her hand, one that Rose had stowed away in one of the drawers haphazardly what must have been weeks ago when she’d been fixing the faucet. She’d forgotten it was there in all the excitement afterwards – truth be told, she hadn’t really needed it, since the puns had come at appropriate times and she hadn’t wanted to write them down – but she didn’t particularly want Luisa to be reading through it again right now either.

“Reading,” Luisa says, barely looking over the edge of the notebook in her direction. Her brow furrows, and she finally looks up. “Ok, so when were you planning to use this one?” She points to one of the lines in the notebook.

Even from where she’s standing, leaning up against the doorframe with her arms crossed, Rose can read the line in question – not because it’s big writing but because she recognizes the line. She leans down next to Luisa. “You’re the only woman I love now,” she murmured, cupping Luisa’s cheek, “but in ten years, I’ll love another girl.” She pauses, waits, and then says, finally, “She’ll call you _Mommy_.”

Luisa pauses for a moment, looks into Rose’s eyes, and then takes a deep breath, shaking her head. “No, when were you planning on using that? You don’t want kids. And even if you did, it wouldn’t take us ten years to have a kid. I know people. _Really good_ people. _I know me._ And Petra had such luck with that turkey baster. And it wouldn’t take our daughter ten years to—”

“ _Shush._ ” Rose reaches over and kisses Luisa, slowly taking the notebook out of her hands. “I thought I told you not to read any more of those.”

Luisa pouts. “I was in the kitchen and you were in the shower and I was bored.”

“And you thought you would have more fun reading those than joining me in the shower?” Rose raises one hand and holds it to Luisa’s forehead. “Are you sick?”

“No! I just didn’t think—”

“ _What have you done with my wife, imposter?_ ” Rose leans back on her haunches, crossing her arms, feigning an air of shock. “My wife would _never_ choose to read over joining me in the shower! You can’t be her!”

Luisa fakes a cough. “No, no, Rose, it’s me, I’m just, I’m sick, it’s a little cough, I should be better in a few minutes, you just have to kiss me, and then I’ll feel _all_ better.”

Rose raises her eyebrows then smiles. “I can fix that.” She leans forward and kisses Luisa again. “Are you better now?” she asks, her voice soft. “Or are you still feeling sick?”

“I’m feeling much better,” Luisa starts, then her eyes widen and she grins, smug. “No, no, I’m still sick. I think I need more kisses.”

“Well, then, more kisses it is.”


	25. that journal was such a bad idea rose

“Rose.”

“ _Hnnngh._ ”

Rose didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to do anything, but Luisa kept poking her – first the tip of her nose, then her sides. Then she started pulling on her cheeks, and Rose couldn’t stay asleep anymore. Her eyes blinked open. “ _W h a t ?_ ” she groaned, pulling on the word the way a child did when their parent wants them to do something they don’t want. Her fingers tangled with Luisa’s just as her girlfriend started to poke her again, and she lifted her fingers to her lips and gave them a gentle kiss. “I’m tired. Let me go back to sleep.”

“But I think we need to break up.”

All at once, Rose snapped up. She might have still been drowsy before, but this had suddenly taken a far more serious turn than she had expected. “What?” she said, her voice hushed. “Why?” Her eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Luisa said, avoiding Rose’s eyes. “I just think we need to break up. Okay?”

“ _No_ , it’s not okay. We need to talk about this. You can’t just—”

“Well, we’re broken up now, so—”

Luisa scooted a little further away out of the bed, her lips pursed into a frown, but she kept their fingers tangled together and gave Rose’s hand a gentle squeeze. Her brow furrowed. She looked down.

“I’m sorry,” Rose said, squeezing Luisa’s hand back, “for whatever I did.”

Luisa looked up all at once, her eyes widening. “You didn’t do anything wrong!”

Rose frowned. “Well, I had to do _something_ wrong! You broke up with me!” She wanted to cross her arms or clench her hands into fists, but to do that would mean to take her hand out of Luisa’s, and she couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ – do that. If they were really broken up, then she might never be able to hold Luisa’s hand again. She didn’t want to think about that. “I just wish…I wish you’d told me what it was sooner, so I could…so I could stop doing whatever it was. You _know_ I would. I stopped killing people for you!”

“You never killed people for me.”

“I stopped killing people.” Rose paused. “For you, I stopped killing people.”

“Rose, you shouldn’t have been killing people in the first place.”

“I stopped! Is the point!” Rose’s jaw clenched, and her lips pressed together. “So whatever I was doing, I would have stopped! If you’d just told me—”

“Hey, Rose.” Luisa squeezed her hand and gave her a little grin.

“I don’t see why you’re grinning.”

“You’re single.”

“Yes, that’s your fault.”

“I’m single.”

“Also your fault.”

Luisa’s grin grew bigger. “Coincidence? _I think not!_ ”

Rose looked at Luisa. She blinked. Her lips pressed together, and she took a deep breath. “Luisa, are you telling me you broke up with me just to use that cheesy line on me?”

“Noooooooo.” Luisa squeezed Rose’s hand again. “But there it was, in that notebook of yours, too good to pass up, and neither of us could really use it unless one of us broke up with the other, and I didn’t want you to think we were going to break up again so that you could use it, so I—”

“—broke up with me anyway so that you could use it first.”

Luisa nodded and batted her eyelashes at her. “You love me, you know it.”

Rose took another deep breath. “So does this mean we’re _not_ broken up?”

“Yes.”

“And I can go back to sleep?”

Luisa pouted. “I guess.” She tugged on Rose’s hand, pulling her closer to her. “I thought I would get something for all of that.”

“You broke up with me!”

“I used one of your puns!”

“That wasn’t even a good pun.”

“ _None of them are good, Rose._ ”

“ _You_ think they’re good.” Rose leaned forward and kissed the tip of Luisa’s nose, smiling as her girlfriend scrunched her nose. “ _I_ think they’re good.” She kissed her cheek. “So that means they’re good.”

“I don’t—”

But Rose covered Luisa’s lips with a gentle kiss. She continued to smile as she pulled away. “And next time you want a kiss, don’t break up with me and then use a pick up line on me again. Just ask for a kiss.” Her head tilted to one side. “Or use the pick up line, just don’t,” and she curved one hand around Luisa’s cheek, “break up with me again. Not unless you mean it.”

Luisa shook her head. “ _Not at all._ ”


	26. anxious and calm and soft

Luisa runs her hand through her hair for what must be the thousandth time – not that she’s counting, not that _anyone_ is counting, not that anyone really _cares_ – and takes a deep breath and settles herself. The bartender brings her a drink, and she sits with it, just that long, tall glass of water with a hint of lemon – like she’s some sort of adult, like she’s some sort of old, _water with lemon_ – and takes another deep breath.

She likes to think that she knows what she’s doing here. She _does_ know what she’s doing here. She’s got a girlfriend and she’s here anyway because she might be meeting someone new and she doesn’t _really_ have a girlfriend but she does and she’s definitely done this before when she’s had other girlfriends so it isn’t like this is even a new thing but something about it this time feels not quite good, not quite right—

Maybe it’s that every other time she’s done this, she’s been drunk, and being drunk lets her do some things without really thinking about it and numbing the part of her that really cares about the fact that it _might_ hurt someone else, and right now she’s _not_ drunk so she _is_ thinking about the fact that this _might_ hurt someone else—

But it’ll only hurt her if she finds out and as long as she doesn’t find out it’s fine and maybe it’s fine if she finds out anyway because isn’t that what she really wants – to be found out – because she doesn’t really want to be with her girlfriend anymore not because she doesn’t love her – she does – but can you really say that you love them when you’re in a bar hoping that someone else will pick you up and then you don’t have to be with your girlfriend anymore isn’t this just a painful excuse to break up with your girlfriend without having to break up with your girlfriend—

She’s much too sober for this.

She almost lifts her hand for the bartender to bring her another drink – a _stronger_ drink – even though it’s not good for her and she’s been sober for thirty-four days.

Then the redhead sits next to her and talking to her is the easiest thing in the world and she lets out that breath she keeps taking and it feels a little less deep.

“You know,” she says, leaning forward, speaking so soft that only the other woman can hear her, “I’ve been feeling out of sorts all day, but you’re _really_ turning me on right now.”

The redhead smiles and it’s like she’s said the right thing and she holds out her hand and tugs her to her. “I was about to say the exact same thing.” Their eyes meet and she expects it to be brief but they are held and she is held in the deepest ocean blue as though she were a fish swimming (and she has always wanted to be a fish swimming). “Do you want to go somewhere?”

She feels like she should take a deep breath.

She doesn’t.

“Yeah,” she says, soft and softer. “Let’s go.”


	27. a little heartburn

“ _Nnnnggggghhhhhh._ ”

Rose curled up on her side, tightening herself into the smallest ball she could, legs all tangled together. She let out another groan, her chest burning. “ _Luisa—_ ”

“I thought you _liked_ spicy food!” The woman in question bounced on the bed – eliciting another unhappy noise and a slight glare from the redhead – before pressing a cold kiss to the back of her neck. “ _I_ like spicy food. You’ve never done this before.” She pouted.

“ _My mouth is on fire._ ”

Luisa rested her chin on Rose’s shoulder, peering into her face. “Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?”

“No,” Rose moaned, frowning, as she turned more away. She grabbed the glass of milk on the bedside table next to her and shifted up just enough to gulp down another mouthful. It didn’t help. “I’ve never even _had_ heartburn before, Lu, how did you—”

“If you need a new one, I’ll gladly give you my heart.”

Rose blinked a couple of times and then turned to fully face Luisa, although she still stayed curled up on her side. “You’ve been reading my pick up journal again.”

Luisa frowned. “No, I came up with that one on my own, thank you very much. You don’t have the corner on _all_ cheesy puns.”

“ _Nnnnhh._ ” Rose tried to sit up enough to give Luisa a kiss – made it just enough to give her a sloppy one before curling up on the bed again. “Your face is cold. And your hair is wet.”

“That’s what showers do, yes.”

“Come here.” Rose grabbed her and pulled her down to her, so that Luisa’s cold face rested against her chest. She shifted then sighed. “That’s a little better.”

Luisa’s brows furrowed, and she looked up, moving away slightly. “That can’t _really_ be better. Heartburn’s on the _inside_ and my head’s on the outside and I’m pretty sure I can go find you some Tums or whatever they have here to deal with heartburn if you’ll just let me—”

“ _No, move back._ ” Rose pushed Luisa back against her chest. “Stay.”

Luisa leaned up just enough to press a kiss to Rose’s lips and then settled herself a little better against Rose’s chest, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Fine,” she murmured, her eyes closing. “I can stay.”


	28. breathing

“Rose.”

There’s something shoving at her chest – which would be nice if _something else_ didn’t hurt. The hands move from her chest to her arms.

“ _Rose._ ”

She feels herself lifted and shaken a couple of times. Why is she being shaken? Why can’t she just stay like this? She’s so _tired_.

“ **Rose!** ”

The other person lays her back down on the ground. They rest their head against her chest as though listening for something. Heartbeat. She’s got one of those. She can feel her pulse on her neck. Her mind replays the voice – whoever it is, it’s a woman – as the other person – _woman_ – leans her head back and opens her mouth.

_Oh. She knows what she’s supposed to do here._

The woman presses her lips against hers, and Rose kisses her.

Her eyes flick open as the other woman whaps her arm. “ _Rose. What the fuck. I thought you were dying._ ”

“Hey,” Rose says, propping herself up on one arm. “Can I take a picture of you? So I can prove to my friends that angels exist?”

Luisa – _she knows who Luisa is_ – glares at her. “You have to _have_ friends for that to work.”

“ _Ouch._ ” Rose holds her other hand over her heart. “Try and save my life and I kiss you and suddenly you’re all mad at me.”

“ _I was scared, Rose._ ” Luisa stares at her for another moment before wrapping her arms around her and pulling her towards her. She presses a kiss to her neck. “Don’t play that game with me again. Please. I already lived through you dying once. I don’t want to do it again.”

Rose freezes then wraps one hand around Luisa’s waist and buries her head in her hair. “Don’t worry,” she says, her voice soft. “I won’t make you live through anything like that. You’ll be okay.”


	29. dad jokes

“Rose, I’m _hungry_.”

“Hungry for—”

Luisa lifted a finger and placed it on Rose’s lips. “ _Actually_ hungry. For _real_ food. When I’m _hungry for you_ or _hungry like the wolf_ or _reliving my vagitarian phase_ or any one of a hundred other good, fun, _very witty and very excellent_ puns that my _beautiful, wonderful, love of my life_ girlfriend, trust me, you can keep going with that phrase, _but right now I’m actually hungry and I love you so please don’t say any of those_.” She kept her finger on Rose’s lips just long enough to give her a strong look. “Can I move my finger now?”

Rose started to nod, then her eyes moved to look at Luisa’s finger so that she went a little cross-eyed and she opened her lips enough to bite Luisa’s finger. As Luisa watched, she moved back and gave it a little kiss and then nodded again.

“You’re cute and I love you.”

“So I’m Cute and you’re Hungry. I think if we name our daughter Sleepy, we will make the whole of the human experience.”

Luisa blinked. “Only if we name her brother Horny.”

“ _Oh, yes, Horny, how could I forget—_ ”

“—and I told you no puns!”

“You didn’t say no dad jokes.”

“You aren’t even a dad yet!!” Luisa slapped their comforter. “You don’t get to be a dad at all, Rose, _you are a mom_.”

“But _you_ call me—”

Luisa placed her hand fully over Rose’s mouth. “ _Don’t._ ”

But she could feel Rose’s lips curve into a smile on the other side of her palm, then, before she had time to move away, Rose was licking her skin. She frowned. “ _Rose, can’t we just talk about getting something to eat, I’m starving._ ” She moved her hand away, shaking it.

“I thought you said you were _Hungry_.” Rose tilted her head to one side. “Now you’re _Starving_. Which one is it?”

“ _Rose._ ”

Rose leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Luisa’s cheek. “Alright,” she said, scooting back with a big grin, “I’m listening.” She glanced out their overly large window. “There’s a burger joint a few blocks away. We could walk. They have vegetarian options.”

“ _Vegan_ options.”

Rose made a face. “They probably have those, too, but they won’t taste as good.” She sighed, running her hand through her curls, and then looked back to Luisa. “You know, if _you_ were a burger, you’d be the _McGorgeous_.”

Luisa gave her a flat stare. “You would eat me all in one bite.”

“I would _savor you_ , thank you very much.” Rose cupped Luisa’s face in both hands. “And you would be the only thing I would order.” Her head shifted back and forth a little bit. “And fries. Every good burger comes with a side of fries. And a drink. I’d get _really_ thirsty. But I’m sure you’d make a great glass of long—”

“ _Stop._ ” Luisa leaned forward and kissed Rose again. “If we’re going to go in circles like this, let’s do it while we’re getting food, okay?” She rested her forehead against Rose’s. “You know I’m more willing to put up with your puns when I’m not starving.”

Rose smiled. “Okay. A few blocks that way.” She stuck her thumb over her shoulder. “Is the burger joint, but there are other places that we can pass while we walk. I figure you don’t want anything fancy.”

“No. Thank you.” Luisa gave her another kiss, visibly softening. “You have to keep your baby mama happy.” She rubbed her hand over her gradually growing stomach. “Keeping _her_ happy, too.”

Rose bent over and kissed Luisa’s stomach gently. “When do you think she’ll be old enough to repeat my puns?”

Luisa groaned. “I hope never.”

“You hope eventually.”

“ _I hope eventually._ ”


	30. car sitting and waiting

doctor rose ruvelle sits in her car and waits. a certain luisa alver is out in the field with her dogs – there are too many for rose to remember all of their names, although she does. she remembers too many things that a normal person wouldn’t, and it tires her. _bores her_ most of the time. but luisa alver and her dogs do not. the dogs would, separate from their owner, but given that their owner is concerned—

she runs a hand through her red hair, meticulously curled as it always is, manicured nails scratching ever so slightly along her own skin, and she watches. her lips press together.

how does one begin this conversation?

_do you live in a corn field, because i’m stalking you?_

if she were anyone else other than herself, she might groan. it’s a bad joke. it’s not even remotely funny. _not even remotely._ she likes it. she thinks luisa might. especially since she _does_ live in a huge field and she _does_ have a little farm out by her tiny house – it’s too cold for her to live there with her pack right now, but there’s another little winter farm by the much bigger house – and she thinks – _she thinks_ – that luisa would smile at that and brush the strands that have pulled out of her ponytail back behind her ears and invite her inside and—

it’s a lot of thinking and a lot of wondering and rose is still sitting here in the car instead of making the move out of it, striding across the field, and actually saying any of it.

killing and cooking people is significantly easier than asking a beautiful girl out. or getting said beautiful girl to invite her _in_.

rose sits in her car and watches luisa alver with her pack of dogs and decides that now is not the right time and she’d best try again tomorrow.


	31. lecter rose

“dr. ruvelle?”

there’s the slightest of voices at her door, and the redheaded doctor in question turns, short floral skirt edges brushing against the backs of her thighs, only to find the tanned woman she has been watching off and on for the past week. “luisa.” her voice is equally soft, eyes taking in the other’s haggard appearance, the dirt staining her flannel shirt, the spots of something a little more red and a little more dark. “what are you doing here?”

the brunette runs shaking hands through her long dark hair, a softer shade than another of dr. ruvelle’s “friends”, and that same dark red stain rubs off of one onto the side of her face. “i…i think I’m lost.” her dark hazel eyes are wild, scattered, shifting about from one end of the room to the other, flying like a bird unable to find a place to rest. “can you—” she pauses, swallows. “can you help me?”

  1. ruvelle has never really been in the habit of helping anyone other than herself in any considerable, quantitative amount. she helps in ways that interest and intrigue her, but it’s never really sure if those helps have actually helped any of them the way they should. but here she steps forward, each step measured, her heels clacking on the dark wood floor. there are muddy boot prints where luisa has walked; there is nothing for ruvelle herself.



she takes luisa’s hands in her own, and the other whirls to her, steadies as dark hazel eyes meet brilliant blue ones. ruvelle wonders if she sees the same dark red color in her eyes as she sees on luisa’s hands and face. “tell me what you need.” her voice is a hush. everything feels hushed in these moments.

luisa nods but doesn’t break their eye contact. “i’m lost,” she repeats. “can you help me?”

“help you with what, luisa?” she searches luisa’s eyes.

the answer is not what she expects.

“find the way to your heart.”

rose takes a sharp breath. she is not sure what to say. this has never happened to her before.

luisa brushes her red hair back with hands covered with something the same color as her hair, and it stains her cheek as luisa’s moves to cup it, to hold it in place. she leans forward—

* * *

_rose wakes in a cold sweat._

the crumpled sheets of her bed are tangled around her legs. she sits straight and leans forward, pushing her hands through the waves of her red hair, taking deep breaths of air that tastes far too cold for her chambers. for a brief moment, she lets herself check the bed next to her, although she knows what she will see as soon as she does.

there is no one.

she takes another breath, soothing herself, and leans back, lying down again. one hand reaches between her thighs, long fingers brushing hot tips against the folds of her skin, before deciding against it.

this is dangerous. she isn’t sure that she likes it.

_~~she does.~~ _


	32. it's not nice to lie about being sick rose

The door to their apartment slammed with a resounding bang, and Luisa jumped in her seat on their couch. She stood and looked over across the apartment to where Rose had collapsed against the door, her eyes shut tight against the bright lights, an arm stretched across her forehead, and already _groaning_. Luisa’s eyes widened. “Rose,” she asked, hesitant but still concerned as she walked over towards her girlfriend, “what’s wrong?” She watched her, curious. “Why are you back so early?”

Rose coughed a few times, and when she lowered her head to face Luisa, the other woman could see the bright flush on her cheeks, much darker than their normal rosy color. “I’m sick,” she said, coughing again, “and I went to the doctor and I’m…I’m _sick_.” She stepped forward once and collapsed into Luisa’s waiting arms.

Luisa held Rose close to her and then raised a hand, pressing the back of it against Rose’s forehead. “You’re not running a fever.” She stepped back a little bit. “Can you tell me what hurts? Maybe this _doctor_ of yours is wrong.” She couldn’t hide her frustration that Rose had gone to see someone else instead of coming immediately back to her; she might not have her license anymore, but she knew how to take care of her, how to check and see what was wrong. If it had been bad enough to get real other medical help, she would have sent her there, but—

But Rose didn’t say anything, just shook her head, and Luisa led her to the couch, where Rose sat down hard and curled up against Luisa, resting her head on her shoulder. “The doctor,” she started to say, and then she turned her head away and coughed in the other direction, covering her mouth with one hand.

“What did the doctor say?” Luisa asked. “Tell me everything.”

“She said,” and here Rose turned to face Luisa, meeting her eyes, “that I was severely lacking in vitamin U.”

Luisa’s brow furrowed. “Vitamin U,” she repeated, running through vitamins and their uses in her head. Then, all of a sudden, she stopped, frowned, and glared at the woman next to her. “Rose.”

All of a sudden, Rose grinned and leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “ _I missed you_ ,” she said, her voice a whisper, “and I wanted to take time off so we could spend time together. _Lacking in vitamin U_ , get it?”

Luisa blinked once, not changing her expression, and then kissed Rose’s forehead. “Next time,” she said, “don’t lie to me about going to see another doctor.”

“Oh?” Rose asked, and her fingers began to run up Luisa’s skin just under her shirt. “Did I make you jealous?”

“ _No_ ,” Luisa said at once. She shivered at Rose’s touch. “ _Yes._ ”

Rose grinned and brushed her nose against Luisa’s. “Then let me make it up to you.”


	33. it's not nice to keep secrets from your gf lu

The first day Rose – now Clara, given that they’re on the run from the police but not so far as to be in a separate country – comes back to their little apartment and finds that Luisa isn’t there, she’s surprised. But she thinks it through, and before Luisa gets back, only a few minutes after she does, she’s already let it go. Of course, Luisa isn’t there. It’s not like she’s going to stay in the apartment all day every day while she’s at work. Of course, she’s out and about and doing something. She wouldn’t keep Luisa under lock and key, would she?

—don’t mention the submarine, that was a drastic time, and it called for a drastic measure. Besides, it wasn’t _her_ fault that Luisa had fainted shortly after she removed her mask and revealed herself _as_ herself. She couldn’t just _leave_ her there.

—no, she couldn’t. Quit saying that she could. _She can see you, Luisa._

But once became something of a pattern, and while Rose didn’t want to interfere—

No, that’s a lie, she was insanely curious and she _desperately_ wanted to interfere. Luisa could definitely have parts of her life that she didn’t tell Rose about. Definitely. _Most definitely._

And yet here Rose was, only a few hours after what felt like months of coming to their apartment and finding Luisa not there and sometimes arriving out of breath and sweating as though she’d been racing to get there before Rose had, stretched across Luisa’s lap with Luisa’s fingers kneading her scalp through her frizzy red hair and asking in that soft yet husky voice of hers, peering up at Luisa with clear blue eyes, “Other than being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

“I got a job at a flower shop,” Luisa said, continuing to stroke her hand through Rose’s hair without even thinking, and then she froze, her eyes widening and blinking a few times. “Wait.”

Rose grinned and propped herself up on her elbows. “A flower shop?” she asked. “Where? Can I go visit?”

“No.” Luisa pressed Rose back down into her lap with one hand. “I didn’t want you to know.” She frowned. “I like having people who don’t know…who don’t know,” she said swallowing. “They know about you, of course, that I have a girlfriend, that you exist, but right now I…I want to keep this to myself, okay?”

“Okay.” Rose leaned up and gave her a little peck. “I can keep myself to myself. Don’t worry.”

…she might not have exactly been the most _truthful_.


	34. more university au

_Take a lot of pictures for me_ , her mom had said when she’d dropped her off, and Clara had every intent of following through on that request, not because she particularly wanted to take pictures for her mom but because she liked to take pictures and would regardless of whether people wanted her to do so or not.

She might’ve looked a little weird wandering around campus with a camera dangling from her neck, pausing every now and again to take a picture of something or other, but she’d already decided a long time ago that while it _did_ matter what people thought, she would crush any ideas of how weird she was by being exceptional at her studies, by smashing their grades with her own. College might not be competitive about that the way that high school had been, but she’d found that was a good enough way to be.

That, and she had the eyes of anyone who _had_ eyes.

Now, of course, there were sure to be other women who looked gorgeous around campus, so that wouldn’t be as big of an appeal, and it certainly wasn’t much of one now – all jeans and sleeveless blouse and hair pulled back into a ponytail and glasses perched on the edge of her nose – which, yes, appealing to _some_ people, but not the same sort of _mass_ appeal the way that wavy hair on one shoulder, soft blouse, short skirt, and heels had – but—

Clara took a deep breath and snapped another shot of the library. Less of the building itself and more of the flowers in front of it. Not the kind of pictures she knew her mother would want – candids, roommates, new friends, new _girl_ friends, etc. – but these were the kind of pictures she wanted to take. Her roommate wasn’t here yet. She hadn’t run into anyone worth introducing herself to yet. Besides, she was a little preoccupied.

She leaned back on one heel, stared at the building, and debated with herself about taking another picture before finally deciding against it. Then she turned and almost ran into another girl, one with bronze skin and dark brown hair, who appeared to have been walking towards her.

“He-hey!” the other girl said with a bright grin. “I’m, um, I’m Luisa. Are you new, too? Or are you a professional?” She nodded towards Clara’s camera.

“No.” Clara looked down at her camera. “I’m not a professional,” she said, lifting her camera with one hand. “I’m new, too.”

“But you’re by yourself?”

“Look who’s talking.” Clara glanced to the empty space surrounding the other girl. “You don’t have anyone with you, either.”

Luisa grinned. “I was hoping to maybe run into someone. Looks like I ran into you.” She nudged Clara’s arm. “You wanna go get something to eat with me? I mean, I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.”

Clara blinked once, slow. “You don’t even know my name, you just met me, and you’re already—”

“Yep.” Luisa linked their arms together. “So you’re coming with me, right?” She reached over and touched Clara’s camera. “And you’ll take pictures of us together?”

Clara let out a slow laugh and raised her brows. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“Of course.” Luisa grinned. Then her face froze. “You mean that in a good way, right? Not that sort of _you’re cute, now please go away_ sort of thing? You’re not one of those mean people, are you?”

_Well—_

“I’m Clara,” she said, finally, “and I think you’re right.” She lifted the camera and angled it so that it faced both of them before pressing the button. “We _do_ look good together.”


	35. movie theater banter

“I think this is the absolute worst movie I’ve ever seen.”

Rose leans back in her theater seat, scooting down until she can barely see the human-like feline figures prancing about on screen over the chair in front of her, and lets out a huff. “I cannot believe you dragged me to see this.”

“The music isn’t half bad.” Luisa wags a finger at the screen then throws a piece of popcorn at Rose’s scowling face. “Some of it’s actually _really_ catchy.”

Rose just scrunches her face up more. “That doesn’t make the rest of it less bad.”

“No,” Luisa agrees. “Just better than what I think your _actual_ worst movie of all time is.”

“And what do you think _that_ is?”

Luisa shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ve seen a lot of bad movies.” She grins and reaches over to press a kiss to Rose’s cheek. “We usually don’t make it through them.”

Rose slowly grins. “We don’t have to make it through this one.”

“ _Hush! I’m trying to pay attention to the movie!_ ” some woman behind them says, and Rose looks up just enough to see her face glaring angrily at them before she settles back down in her seat.

Then Rose glances to Luisa and rolls her eyes. “It’s not like we’re interrupting anything—”

“ _Shhhhhh!_ ”

Luisa giggles at Rose’s immediately annoyed face, and she leans over, kissing her cheek again before whispering, “You know, if _I_ were a cat, I would spend all nine lives with you.” Before she can scoot back over, Rose turns to capture her lips with her own. But Luisa just taps the edge of her nose with one finger. “I want to see this movie. We can make out later.”

Then Rose pouts and looks at the screen again, crossing her arms like a petulant child. _Later_ may be nice, but she would rather _now_. Admittedly, Luisa’s right. The music doesn’t suck too terribly. But everything else _really, really does_.


	36. Chapter 36

Rose runs her fingers through Luisa’s hair, pushing it back out of her eyes, and Luisa shifts under the sheets, curving so that she can look up and meet her eyes. She expects Rose to move towards her, to brush their noses together or to press a kiss to her lips, but Rose doesn’t do any of that, instead continuing to stare deep into her eyes. “Fascinating,” she murmurs.

Luisa’s eyes widen. The word frightens her in a way that _crazy_ never had – _crazy_ had rarely, if ever, been used in an intensely derogatory way. Call her _crazy_ and it’s a joke, it’s not anything serious (with the exception of the one time that Raf meant it that way, and even then, she’d been able to be _angry_ , not afraid) – but _fascinating_ made her sound like…like a specimen to be examined.

“What is?” she asks, her voice suddenly very soft, her eyes searching Rose’s.

“Your eyes.” Rose smiles – a gentle thing. She must have heard the fear, the worry, the concern in Luisa’s voice. “I’ve never seen such dark eyes with so much light in them.”

Luisa glances down, and she pulls closer to Rose, resting her head on her chest. “Thanks.” She shivers.

“What’s wrong?” Rose moves her head so that she can just barely look Luisa in her face, and when Luisa doesn’t say anything in reply, she bends down and presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s a compliment, Lu.”

“I know.” Luisa leans up and pecks Rose’s lips. “I just.... Thanks.” She meets Rose’s eyes again, blushes, and looks away again. “Sorry.”

Rose brushes her fingers through Luisa’s hair again. “Don’t be.” She continues to pet her hair. “If I’ve said something that made you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t!” Luisa looks up immediately. “I mean,” she looks away again, “you _did_ , but you didn’t _mean_ it to be uncomfortable, so it’s, it’s _okay_ , really. I’m fine.”

“You’re not acting fine.”

Luisa buries her face in the crook of Rose’s neck. “I will be.” She presses gentle against her. “Can we not talk about it?”

Rose nods. “Sure.”


	37. feeling hot hot hot

They have been living together for three months – three months since she was presumed to be dead, a lie spread by Jane, who would never say she’d seen otherwise, and Rafael, who had shown up in just enough time to believe her even though it was not Rose that either of them had seen – and their corridors have been cramped the entire time. Luisa has more than enough money to move them elsewhere, to get them something a little more spacious, but after the sweaty humidity of the Caymans and the constant hiding and sweaty humidity of that stupid, stupid mask, she’d apparently thought that _sweaty humidity_ was much worse than _dry_ humidity.

It isn’t. Not really. Heat is heat, no matter what it is, and in this, Rose feels almost like she’s suffocating.

She’s still sweating, just like she was before, and her face is a deep, flushed red. She looks at Luisa, takes a deep breath, and sighs. Air conditioner is a must, but theirs has broken down. It’s only been a few hours, but it feels much, much longer.

Luisa’s fingers wrap around her work overalls and pull her closer. “Is it hot in here,” she asks, her eyes twinkling, “or is it just you?”

Rose grins, then, and is reminded that it doesn’t matter how _hot_ or _sweaty_ it may be, she is always up for kissing Luisa.

_And other things, of course._


	38. hair clippies and lipstick and skittles

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”

Rose poked her head around the doorframe, eyes narrowing in frustration as she glanced over to her girlfriend. “What?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “What is it?”

“Look!” Luisa scampered around from her old bed, a handful of make-up and other accessories in her hand. “I didn’t even know I still _had_ these.” She held her hands out for Rose to see and grinned as Rose took them from her, piece by piece.

Rose held them up and stared at them and then back to Luisa. “What are they?” She glanced at the little butterfly clips in her hand again. “You don’t still plan to wear these, do you?”

“Would it matter if I did?” Luisa sat back on her bed, keeping one lipstick in her hand, and pressed her hands against the comforter as she scooted back. “No, no,” she said, still grinning. “I used to wear those through high school and middle school. I thought they made me look _super_ hot.”

“These?” Rose looked at the little clips again, lips contorting in a confused grimace of sorts. “You thought these were _cool_?”

Luisa nodded. “I was in middle school! They _were_ cool!” She took out the lipstick and held it in the air in front of Rose. “And _this_ I used to wear in college, right after I came out.” With a smug smirk, she uncapped it and turned away to put it on before turning back to face Rose. “ _Look!_ ”

Her lips were a rainbow shade – some sort of swirled color that Rose could now see spiraled around the lipstick itself in its silver container. At least it hadn’t turned out looking muddy, but it didn’t look particularly _good_ either. Rose raised one eyebrow. “Your lips look like Skittles.”

Luisa’s smug grin grew even more smug, and she leaned forward. “Want to taste the rainbow?”

Rose chuckled. “No. _Yes._ No.” She sat down on the bed next to her and kissed her cheek. “Only if you feel like breaking in your bed.”

“It’s _already_ broken in.”

“Well,” Rose kissed the edge of her lips, “whoever it was didn’t do a very good job.”

“Excuse you,” Luisa turned so that her lips brushed against Rose’s. “I did a _very_ good job.”

Rose brushed Luisa’s hair back out of her face. “ _You_ did. Whoever you were with, though.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “ _They_ could have done better.”

“I expect you think you can fix that.”

Rose grinned. “ _Of course I can._ ”


	39. nightmares

Luisa’s eyes opened as she woke up. She breathed heavy, eyes darting about the room quickly before they finally landed on Rose. It didn’t matter that the redhead was deep asleep, Luisa prodded her arm anyway. “Rose. _Rose._ ” When her girlfriend finally opened her eyes and yawned, Luisa wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close, snuggling into her chest. “Oh, good, you’re awake.”

Rose yawned again and covered her mouth with one hand. “Yeah, because you woke me up.” She blinked her bleary eyes and stared at Luisa, brushing her hair out of her face. Luisa’s forehead was sweaty. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Mmhm.” Luisa nodded into Rose’s chest, still hiding her face. “Only…only it wasn’t _really_ a dream. It was but it didn’t feel like one. It felt like…like something Raf would actually say.”

All at once, Rose’s eyes narrowed in frustration and annoyance. “What happened?”

“Dad was there, too,” Luisa said, carefully avoiding repeating what the Rafael in her dream said. “He told me he was disappointed in me. I was supposed to be the wonder child. The doctor. He was supposed to be able to be _proud_ of me, and here I am. A failure. No job. Shacking up with his murderer.”

“Murderess,” Rose gently corrected.

“Whatever.” But the comment was enough to pull Luisa’s head out of Rose’s chest, even if it was only to give her a strong look. “My mom was there, too. She said she was glad to have forgotten me.” Luisa shuddered. “It made me wonder if…if you….” She swallowed once and said it quickly, all at once, before burying her face in Rose’s chest again, “if there was anything about me that you didn’t like or wanted to change.”

It took a little bit before Rose, still not quite awake, understood what Luisa was saying. “No, no, not at all,” she said, pressing a gentle kiss to Luisa’s forehead. “You’re absolutely beautiful and wonderful just the way you are.” She didn’t say anything about how hard Luisa was trying to be a better person or anything like that – she didn’t particularly _care_ about any of that, so she wasn’t going to offer her simple platitudes that someone else might have. “In fact,” she said, her voice very soft, “the only thing I would want to change about you is your last name.”

“My last…?” Luisa looked up, her brow furrowed. “You can’t change my last name. I _want_ my mom’s last name. I—” She frowned. “This is a horrible way to propose, Rose.”

Rose laughed. “How about this?” she asked. “How about _I_ change _my_ last name?”

“I like that idea.” Luisa leaned up and kissed her. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Making me feel better.” Luisa snuggled back against her girlfriend. “I knew I choose a good one with you.”

Rose frowned. “Of course you chose a good one. You chose _me_.”

“Glad _someone_ ’s in a good mood.”


	40. it's a return to longbourne baby

The lights in the windows of the inn tucked away in the recesses of Longbourne are still lit, a nice golden glow loom on the otherwise white landscape. Boot prints break the snow heading to the inn’s front door, as well as trekking around to the back where, if you follow them, you will find a messily put together collection of snow figures – two snow women, one with pinecones for eyes and the other with blue-painted rocks, and a tinier snow child in front of them with dried out old leaves for hair.

Instead, however, we will follow the mixed boot print pattern through the front door, past the entryway where a collection of snow boots – one a bright, almost blinding pink – sits as it becomes a trekking not of boot prints but of melted snow and ice puddles, and towards the suite and bedrooms in the back where the inn’s owner and her family live. It is there, on the couch, that we will find the owner herself, a woman with messy dark hair that still holds the waves and print of being pulled back in an equally messy ponytail all day and twinkling hazel eyes that seem brown unless you are close enough to see the sprinkles of forest green and gold at their center, wrapped in the arms of a woman with brilliant red hair that is more frizzy from being under a hat most of the day than it would be at most other points of time (except, perhaps, in the humid air of islands in the Atlantic) and blue eyes that at odd turns look like the brightest cloudless sky or the deepest ocean depths.

The redhead strokes the brunette’s hair with long, slender fingers, occasionally smoothing the waves or scratching her nails against her skull, and the brunette lets out a soft, soft sigh of contentment. “Rose, where have you been all my life?”

“On the other side of the world,” Rose murmurs, her voice somehow feeling just as gentle as the other’s, even though she speaks a little louder as she says, “Your father is a hotel owner, Luisa. Why didn’t _you_ find _me_?”

Luisa curls a little closer against the other woman and presses a kiss to her other hand. “Let’s not think about that. We’re together _now_. That’s what matters.”

Rose hums in agreement and nestles down in the couch, pulling one of their blankets a little closer around them. “I must be a snowflake after all.”

“What?” Luisa situates Rose’s hands around her waist. “Are you melting for me?”

“No,” Rose says a little too quickly, a little too firmly. She frowns, her brows furrowing. “I’ve _fallen_ for you.”

Luisa laughs. “ _Close enough._ ” She turns to face the woman beneath her and kisses her nose. “Quit pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Rose says with a pout.

“Yes, you are.” Luisa kisses her nose again before settling back against her. “Just stay here with me and be happy. And melt, now that you’ve fallen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rose kisses the sensitive skin on Luisa’s neck and laughs as the smaller woman shivers beneath their blankets. “You love me.”

“I love you.”


	41. it's a return to longbourne baby

Snow falls softly from the overcast sky, little flakes flurrying here and there but not so quickly as to create a storm. A certain little redhead’s eyes watched the snow falling and wanted nothing more than to go out into it and stand underneath it with mouth open wide so that some of it could fall on the tip of her tongue, but instead she was locked inside, only allowed to watch it from her perch on the inn’s front sofa, where she’d been left as her mother – and her mother’s new girlfriend (who she liked so much better than that Allison girl) – went out to walk in it without her. Her brows furrow as she scowls out of the window, sticking her tongue out at the two women – the brunette and the redhead – as they walk away, her arms crossed.

She could go out by herself, Mia was quite certain, but it might be much, _much_ more fun to watch them from inside the inn, where they couldn’t hear her approaching. Mia giggled to herself and continued to watch as the two began to walk around the outside of the inn, imagining the crunch of the boots in the snow as it continued to fall.

* * *

Rose followed Luisa from a little way behind her, a smile tickling her lips. She’d spent too much time with snow growing up to be annoyed by it now; in fact, she had more than a few lines prepared that she hoped would make her new girlfriend laugh – if only because she loved to hear the sound, loved that it wasn’t boisterous or braggart or barkingly loud but instead was something that seemed pleasant, soft – not brook bubbling but something a little louder, a little more suited to the woman who was now stopping in front of her, one hand held out and gesturing to her to step closer.

As soon as Rose moved closer, Luisa span to face her and, leaning up on the tips of her booted toes, kissed her. All at once, Rose could feel her heart growing warm, spreading it from her chest down her arms to the tips of her fingers inside her little purple gloves. Her hands reached up and cupped Luisa's cheek as she responded to her with a kiss of her own, unable to stop herself from smiling as Luisa leaned back down and away from her. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I know.” Luisa grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the back of the inn.

“You know,” Rose continued as they rounded the corner, “it’s a good thing I wore gloves today.”

Luisa paused, but Rose could see the smile at the edges of her lips. “And why is that?”

Rose couldn’t help but grin. “Because you’re too hot to handle.”

And there it was – that little laugh that she’d come to love so much – before Luisa responded, easy enough, “Maybe it’s a good thing _I’m_ wearing them, too.” Then she turned, pecked Rose’s lips, and smiled up at her as she brushed her mittened hands through her red hair. “Wouldn’t want to burn my fingers.”


	42. fun on the beach

The beach is hot.

 _Hotter_ than hot.

They’re further south than they’ve ever been, and Luisa’s used to the hot and humid weather because she grew up in hot and humid regions, but she can tell that Rose is struggling. Her girlfriend is covered in what must be the fifteenth time she’s applied sunscreen – not that it matters, her skin is flushed, and Rose has already complained about being certain that she has a sunburn – and there’s a parasol open over her where she’s stretched out on a towel, her eyes _probably_ closed beneath overly large sunglasses. Every now and again, Luisa peeks out of the ocean and stares at her to see if she has moved at all, and after the waves push her to the shore, she crawls out and walks over to her. Normally, she would be grinning at the footprints she is leaving in the sand and the way the waves eat them as she leaves, but right now she’s just _worried_.

Luisa slumps down on the small towel next to Rose and curls up next to her and Rose finally _moves_ – jumps, really – before turning to face her. “You’re _cold_.”

“The ocean’s cold, Rose.” Luisa presses a kiss to her cheek and grimaces. “You taste like sunscreen.”

“I’m sure you taste like salt, but you don’t hear _me_ complaining.”

Luisa pouts. “That’s because you haven’t kissed me yet.”

Rose turns to face her and immediately – _immediately_ – kisses her, but – point in her favor – she doesn’t wince or scowl or even make a face. “See? _Salt._ ”

“The ocean’s _salty_ , Rose.”

Rose smiles. “Salty and cold. Both things I would expect the ocean to be.”

“You should join me.”

 _Now_ Rose’s face turns into a grimace, and she curls a little closer, wrapping herself around Luisa. There’s barely enough room on the little towel for both of them, but they make room. “But it’s _hot_.”

“I already told you the ocean’s cold.”

“And it’ll mess up my _hair_.”

Luisa sticks out her tongue at her. “We live in the Caymans, Rose. You can’t tell me you actually care about your hair.”

“I care when I take time on it.” Which, admittedly, she _had_ done earlier that day, curling it so that it curved around her shoulders the way it had only a few years previous, when she had been—

_Luisa wasn’t thinking about that._

Still, she couldn’t keep herself from pouting. “Why did you do that _today_? We’ve been planning on going to the beach all week.”

“ _You’re_ the one who wanted me to style my hair like this.”

“But not _today_.” Luisa couldn’t keep the whine out of her voice. “Today I want you to come out and go swimming in the ocean with me. And build sand castles. And have sex on the beach.”

Rose’s eyebrows shot up. “Sex on the beach.”

“On the towel, at least. And definitely in the ocean. _And—_ ”

Rose closes her mouth with a kiss, a little bit insistently. “Why didn’t you say that before now?” But her face falls as she looks out at the sand. “The heat is making me _lethargic_ , and it is so _hot_.”

“Babe,” Luisa reaches over and places her hand on Rose’s chest, “you’re so hot, you make the equator as cold as the north pole.”

Rose stares at Luisa, and even though she can’t see her beautiful blue eyes behind the sunglasses, Luisa is certain the other woman is blinking at her. “That doesn’t help _me_ any, Lu. That just helps _you_. When we go to all those snowy places and you act like I’m your space heater.”

Luisa pouts and looks up through her eyelashes, blinking, at Rose. “ _Please, Rose. I mentioned sex. That has to mean something._ ”

“Oh, alright.” Rose sighs, but as she pulls off her sunglasses, Luisa can see her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I guess, if there’s sex involved, I can get up.”

“ _Of course, you can._ ” Luisa takes Rose’s hand in hers and tugs her down to the surf. “But first, we’re making a sand castle!!”


	43. luisa disappears when she goes on benders

Luisa was missing.

Again.

Rose ran her hands through her dark red hair as she paced in the room she and Emilio shared at the Marbella, waiting for him to leave on his impromptu art thief meeting – he hadn’t told her, he hadn’t _had_ to tell her, she knew – and trying to think of somewhere – _anywhere_ – Luisa might have gone. Her husband was worried, so it was acceptable for _her_ to be worried, and as he left, she assured him that she would try to find her.

He had no faith in her.

_She knew Luisa better than he did._

* * *

Rose found Luisa in the girl bar where they first met, sitting at the bar with her hands clasped together on the counter, staring straight ahead at her reflection in one of the mirrors on the other side. She didn’t smile as she slid onto the stool next to her and whispered, “Would you like me to buy you a drink, or would you just like the money?”

Luisa jumped and turned, her eyes wide as she stared at her. Then she took a deep breath and shook her head. “They’re both bad,” she said. “I can’t drink, and I don’t need the money.”

“Perhaps I can offer you something else.”

Rose held Luisa’s gaze as much as she could, but the smile she was given wasn’t a good one.

Luisa broke the eye contact. “Can we…can we _talk_?”

Rose tensed. She wasn’t good at _talking_. Or, really, she _was_ , but not the sort of talking that she knew Luisa wanted. She shifted the slightest bit on her stool, straightening the edge of her dress. “Is that _all_ you want?”

It took a moment, but Luisa nodded. “For now.” Then she looked up. “Take me home?”

“Of course.” Rose reached over and rubbed Luisa’s back just between her shoulder blades. “Let’s go.”


	44. beach ending

The beach was supposed to be closed after dark, but Luisa and Rose were still there, curled up on the towel, Luisa shivering just the slightest bit as she nudged closer to Rose. The moon reflected on the ocean’s surface was beautiful, just like Luisa was certain it would be, even with the waves breaking the full, off-white circle as they beat against the sand. “This is beautiful,” she said, her voice breaking the silence just as the waves lapping closer towards them did.

“Not as beautiful as you are.”

“ _Rose_.”

The redhead turned to face her, kissed her cheek. “It’s true.” She nuzzled against her. “When I first met you, I looked for a signature. _All_ masterpieces have one, and I thought _you_ must as well. Sometimes I still look for one.” One hand tickled the soles of Luisa’s feet. “ _Right here_ ,” she said over Luisa’s giggling. “But I never find one.”

“Well,” Luisa said when she finally caught her breath, nudging Rose’s chest with her elbow, “we can’t all be the Sistine Chapel, can we?”

Rose caught Luisa’s wrist and brought it to her lips. “You’re _better_ than that. Much better.”

“Better than you?” Luisa couldn’t help but ask, scooting back enough, one hand plopped on the towel, so that she could meet Rose’s eyes.

But Rose’s expression didn’t change. “Of course. I could only fall in love with someone of equal or greater beauty than myself.” Then her lips turned upwards in an amused grin. “And I’m sure our mutual _friends_ would agree with me. They don’t hate _you_ , after all.”

Luisa sighed. “They didn’t hate you, either. Not until they realized—”

“—that I was Sin Rostro?” Rose shook her head. “Then they didn’t really love _me_. Only the person I pretended to be.”

“That’s who I loved, too.”

Rose shook her head once more. “I was only myself with you, even when I wasn’t.” She glanced up. “You love me like this, too, though, don’t you?” Her head tilted to one side. “I would understand if you didn’t.”

Luisa reached over with her other hand and laid it on top of Rose’s, smiling as Rose tangled their fingers together. “Of course I love you.” She gave Rose’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. Not anymore.”

Rose raised one eyebrow. “Even your brother? Or his family?”

It took longer than she knew Rose, but she kept the warm, tight hold on her girlfriend’s hand. “I miss them, you know. I want…I _want_ to be able to see them.”

“I’ll never make you choose, Luisa. You know that.” Rose finally squeezed Luisa’s hand back, but she looked out towards the sea. “I’m not sure that you could.” Then she moved closer and kissed Luisa’s cheek again. “Thank you for loving me.”

Luisa smiled. “That’s a funny way of saying _I love you, too_.”

“That, too.” Rose leaned over and kissed Luisa before she could slap her – Luisa slapped her arm anyway – but it was simple and warm and the air didn’t feel as hot as it had before and everything in the world seemed right and bright and beautiful.


End file.
